


Water And A Flame

by ObnoxiousHeart



Category: Legacies (TV 2018)
Genre: Angst, But not too much because I love them, Dreams and Nightmares, Everything will be ok in the end, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Psychological Trauma, Trust Issues, Unresolved Tension, this one might hurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:09:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 29,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23648998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObnoxiousHeart/pseuds/ObnoxiousHeart
Summary: The siphon stares into the her former lover’s eyes as bright green orbs stare back at her in equal parts resolve and plea. There were so many questions to ask, so many things left unsaid between the two of them. But Penelope’s right, they don’t have time and Josie has to give Penelope the very thing she’s scared to grant: trust.-----As promised, this is the alternate, darker version of I’ll Do It For Her
Relationships: Penelope Park & Josie Saltzman, Penelope Park/Josie Saltzman
Comments: 209
Kudos: 425





	1. Satan's Grand Plan

**Author's Note:**

> This story is the darker version of my first story, I'll Do It For Her. You definitely don't need to read the first story to understand this one. 
> 
> The first chapter essentially starts out the same but the storyline diverges after that. Enjoy and let me know what you think!

Sleep is not something that comes easily to Josie Saltzman these days. It wasn’t always like that. She used to sleep soundly, used to be one of those people who could close their eyes, take a deep breath, and be carried off to slumber. But ever since she found out about the Merge, every waking hour is either spent quelling her anxiety towards her and Lizzie’s impending doom or researching loopholes _out_ of said doom. There are some nights where sleep is as elusive to the young witch as is the solution to the Merge itself. So when she’s unceremoniously pulled out of her rare night of peaceful slumber, annoyed even begin to describe her immense displeasure.

“Josie,” the red-haired tribrid calls out in a breathy whisper, “Josie, get up!”

Hope’s command is coupled with a frantic shaking of the brunette’s shoulders. As for Hope, she practically has to restrain herself from using her supernatural strength to flip the bed out from under the stubborn siphon. 

As Josie raises herself onto her elbows, rubbing the last remnants of sleep from her eyes, the brunette sees Hope waking Lizzie up in a similar manner from the adjacent bed. Even in her drowsy state, Lizzie’s hiss is clear as day, “If you don’t stop shaking me, you can find yourself a new girlfriend, Mikaelson!”

“Babe,” Hope attempts to console the raging blond with the term of endearment, “No time to explain.” She softens her statement further with a quick kiss to her girlfriend’s head. 

To absolutely no one’s surprise, Lizzie and Hope got together a few months after the twin’s 20th birthday. The impending nature of twin’s curse and Hope’s fear of losing another person she loves proved to be the perfect catalyst to push the young tribrid to finally confess her feelings for the feisty siphon.

Their relationship proved to be a great comfort to Lizzie. The blond’s panic attacks and rampages became less frequent and when they do emerge, Hope would speed her girlfriend out to the woods to release her emotions. The arrangement proved quite useful for the twin’s individual growth. With Hope stepping up as another leg of support for Lizzie, Josie was able to come into her own. The brunette became more outspoken, more ready to go after the things she wants…everything but one. One box of memories she’s buried so deep inside herself that Josie’s convinced it doesn’t exist.

The twin’s relationship with each other improved as well. Josette’s words have never been more significant than it has been these past few years. _Fight for each other._ The Merge has placed upon them a burden no other can understand. They’ve learned to lean on each other without being co-dependent on each other. They’re syncing more on the same wavelength these days. And right now, the twins are both ready to blast Hope to the other side of the wall if she keeps trying to get them out of bed.

The Gemini siphons flinch simultaneously when Hope uses magic to flood the room with blinding light. When the tribrid sees Josie fully upright in her own bed, she continues, “We have to go. _Now_.” The end of her order is punctuated with such a measured cadence that the twins snap to attention.

The night is quiet as the three of them file out of the twins’ bedroom. Hope leads the way and shuts down any of the twins’ questions about their mysterious venture. The rest of the school is still. It is the middle of the night after all. The silence and stillness of their surrounding is a great contrast to their hushed whispers and frantic movements.

“Hope,” the brunette whisper-yells out, “Slow down.”

“Yeah, not all of us have the same vamp-wolf super speed that you do,” Lizzie joins in with an eye-roll.

Despite their protests, the twins follow the older girl in haste. Josie’s eyebrows furrowed in more confusion when Hope leads them through the halls, out of the building, and into the woods. The woods have always looked ominous. It’s a part of the reason why humans never randomly ventured through the woods and into the school. But however threatening the woods looked during the day, tonight, it feels even more menacing than usual. The danger of the woods is punctuated more profoundly by the fact that it’s a full blood moon night and a third of the school’s population is wolfing out around them. She can hear their howls off in the distance and while she knows the wolves would never hurt them, she can’t help but feel the unspoken danger of the night.

“Hope—“ the brunette starts.

“Trust me,” the tribrid interrupts as she pauses to turn and look at the brunette in the eye. The resolve in her eyes was convincing enough for the other girl to let it go once again.

As they travel deeper into the woods, Josie can see a circular clearing in the distance. She can make out a group of people—witches, by the looks of it—preparing a ritual circle on the ground. A few of the witches are spreading out to light candles on the outer rim of the ring. The brunette has never seen a ritual circle so intricate. Spells usually dictate just one circle of candles, but the preparation she sees before them consists of a band of salt encased by a larger ring of candles and a purplish glow of energy forming a sort of dome around the entire space. As she scans the ritual preparations, Josie spots a shadow of a woman in the center of the activity directing the others on where to go and what to do. The woman seems to be taking meticulous care into each detail of the ritual circle, getting one of the witches to shift candles around until they are perfectly symmetrical to one another. The woman must be the coven’s leader judging by how the witches wordlessly obey her, not a soul daring to question her extreme particularities with the arrangements.

Before she can make out exactly who the group of witches are, she’s suddenly enveloped in a hug along with her sister, the grip suffocatingly tight yet so familiarly warm…

“Mom?!?” Lizzie is the first to react, pulling back from the hug with a startled expression.

“Hi girls,” the matriarch greets, the edges of her eyes crinkling as she looks back and forth between the two of them, a mix of happiness and guilt dancing in her eyes. Truth is, Caroline Forbes struggles with her guilt daily. From the moment the twins were born, she was burdened by the weight of their eventual fate as each other’s undoing. For the better part of the past 20 years, she searched endlessly for the solution to The Merge. She has sacrificed years of watching her daughters grow up, of being there to comfort them in their lowest moments and rejoicing with them in their highest joys. She has sacrificed all that in the belief that her time was better spent saving their lives, to make sure that they can continue to live their mortal lives to the fullest extent.

She has long since come to terms with her choices. But in moments like these, when her daughters are back in her arms, left hand cradling Josie’s face while the right strokes Lizzie’s hair, she regrets all the moments she’s missed. Scanning both of her girls’ faces, she is truly taken back by how much they have grown since she saw them nearly a year ago for Christmas.

“Not that we’re not happy to see you, but what’s happening?” Josie asked, the skeptic in her out in full force. She nods her heads towards the group of witches before them, finishing the last of the preparations and huddling in a group to the side where Hope and Alaric are speaking to them.

“Yeah, what’s my girlfriend doing with a group of Harry Potter wannabes?” Lizzie scoffs, gesturing to the group’s long brown robes and bell sleeves. Now that Josie thinks about it, she supposes the resemblance _is_ uncanny.

“Lizzie…Josie…” Caroline begins, already holding her breath at the barrage of questions her explanation is bound to gather. After all, she heard the twin’s incessant interrogation of Hope on their way here.

“That is the Vitulus Coven. They’re the last descendants of the Virgos, the ones responsible for putting the curse on the Geminis.”

The twins glance up at their mother at the revelation with matching startled expressions.

“Does that mean…?”

“We’ve found a way to stop The Merge,” Caroline confirms, turning to guide the twins towards the ritual circle at the center of the clearing where the rest of the witches are gathered.

Lizzie’s eyes dart immediately to Hope’s, relief evident in her eyes. The redhead immediately speeds to her side and holds the blonde’s hand safely in hers. The action brings a smile to Caroline’s face. She considers it some sort of karmic justice that her daughter would end up with Klaus’s daughter. The irony of it all…

As soon as the thought entered her mind, her eyes search out familiar brown orbs of the stubborn siphon by her side, pulling her still-startled daughter closer towards her. Despite not being around, Caroline’s not blind to the ache inside her daughter’s heart. She is very much aware of exactly how much effort Josie has put in to extinguish said pain. If they’re successful, tonight might help ease the hurt inside the brunette’s heart—in more ways than one.

“Is that why the coven’s here? To undo the spell?” Josie inquires, her eyes widening in hopefulness as she gazes up at the matriarch. A part of her is a little dubious of a random coven showing up to rescue her and her sister out of their ineludible curse.

“Not exactly…” Hope starts, the hesitance in her voice drawing the twin’s eyes towards her.

“There’s no way to lift the curse per se. Only to…circumvent it,” Caroline adds, flashing one of her overly enthusiastic smile towards the increasingly suspicious girls before her.

The matriarch then turns to the remaining witch kneeling at the center of the circle, the one Josie assumed to be the coven’s leader.

“Do you want to take it from here?”

The hood of her robe had until then obscured her face, but as the witch turns around and the hood falls back, Josie’s blood runs cold.

“Hey, Jojo,” the raven haired witch whispers, her emerald eyes sparkling even in the moonlight above them.

 _Penelope Park._ The girl whose face, despite her most ardent attempts, Josie still sees in her dreams. She can’t help but to stare at the woman before her. The short lob Penelope sported when they last saw each other has now lengthened well past her shoulders. The sparkle in her eyes that once shone with mischief now darkened with exhaustion. It’s punctuated further by the the only real physical change to her face, a slight scar running across the edge of Penelope’s left eyebrow. The faded mark coming to an end just above her eyelids. Josie’s heart clenches at the thought of what the girl did to receive it. On instinct, a rush of protectiveness courses through her and just as quickly in response, her brain snapped her right out of her Penelope-induced trance.

“What is _she_ doing here?” Josie grits out, her voice hard as steel, her hands balling into fists by her side. 

The tension in the space immediately thickens. As the brunette stares down her runaway ex, the rest of the group subconsciously steps back in case the siphon decides to _ignalusa_ her way to an answer. Penelope, to her credit, takes Josie’s glare head-on. She seems more occupied with refamiliarizing herself with the lines of the brunette’s face than to register the wrath being channeled her way. The Park witch only breaks her stare when Caroline decides to intervene.

“Honey,” the matriarch starts, pulling the feisty brunette closer to herself, “Penelope is here to help. She’s the one who came up with the idea of bypassing the Merge.”

The brunette’s brain damn-near short circuited at her mother’s words. All these years, Josie assumed that her ex had forgotten about her, that after jetting off to Belgium, she left the idea of the Merge behind and resigned herself to letting the chips fall where they may. Now having her first love sudden reappear with a solution in-hand, Josie’s brain can’t quite comprehend the situation before her. _Penelope’s here to help…Penelope’s idea…Penelope…?_

“Her idea?” The blond siphon perks up, “You expect me to entrust my life to… _Satan’s_ grand plan?”

Rolling her eyes Lizzie’s dramatics, the raven haired witch says the only thing she knows would shut Lizzie up. After all, time is of the essence. They only had a few more minutes before the blood moon reaches its apex.

“Hope and I came up with it together. So if you don’t want to trust me, at least trust your girlfriend.” 

Lizzie’s eyes snapped to the tribrid’s only to receive a reassuring nod in return. She knows Hope would never put her life in jeopardy, but the idea of her girlfriend and her sister’s ex cooking something up in secret annoys her to no end. They’ll definitely have a talk about that later… _if_ they make it out of this.

To put all hesitance to rest, Caroline backs the witch’s assertion. “There’s no one your father and I trust more on this than Penelope and Hope. We’ve done all the looking that we can and this is the only way.”

“So how does this work?” Josie whispers, entering back into the conversation, her demeanor considerably more subdued than before having caged her rebellious emotions for the time being.

The group revert their eyes to the Park witch. Penelope in turn locks her eyes onto Josie’s and recounts the origin of the curse that’s been haunting the Geminis.

“In every book and grimoire I’ve ever searched, the key to the Merge rests on when it comes into effect—“

“—one of us dies at 22. We get it, Satan,” Lizzie interrupts with an eye-roll, the commentary earning her a drawn out, ‘Lizzie…” from an exasperated Caroline.

Penelope quirks her eyebrow up in challenge, a silent _Can I continue now?_ directed to her former nemesis.

When she receives a huff in return, she continues, “As I was saying, no one has ever considered what happens past 22 because no one has ever made it past the Merge. So I decided to look further into how the Virgos came to that timing. It all goes back to the ascension ritual the Geminis initiated. It’s essentially a version of the Merge. When a pair of Gemini twins from a leading family are of age, they undergo a ritual binding themselves to each other. The twin bond allows the pair to amplify their power, making them virtually unstoppable as the coven’s co-leaders.”

“Wait, our coven used to have 2 leaders?” Josie questions, uncertain eyes meeting bright green orbs.

Penelope nods, continuing, “The Geminis thrived under the original Merge. The coven grew in size faster than any other. Eventually, their potential became a target on their backs. The Virgos, most of all, became extremely paranoid. They were convinced that the power the Geminis gained would corrupt their peaceful nature and turn them into a conquering coven. So they twisted the Gemini’s Merge into the cursed Merge we’re stuck with today.”

“You’re telling me the descendants of _those_ fashion outlaws are responsible for one of us potentially kicking the bucket?” Lizzie reacts, arms failing about in the general direction of the gathered witches before them.

When the blond takes a step towards the Vitulus clan, Caroline, ever the vigilant peacemaker, places a hand on her daughter’s shoulder. The vampire’s firm grip is a clear sign for the young siphon to back down. Lucky for everyone, she heeds Caroline’s silent warning, stepping back with her arms crossed and a frown to match. On instinct, the fuming blonde leans back into Hope for support, the tribrid immediately wrapping her arms around her girlfriend’s waist.

The corners of Penelope’s mouth quirks up in slight amusement as she observes Lizzie and Hope. Who knew the feisty blond’s temperaments could be so quickly quelled by the tiny tribrid beside her. It reminds her of another siphon whose occasional bouts of… _fiery_ temper Penelope has had to douse. When the raven-haired witch spares a glance towards said siphon, Josie’s eyes are already on her. It’s as if the brunette could read her ex’s thoughts. But she doesn’t dare try to pick apart what it means.

“How do we fix it then?” The brunette spoke up. “How do we circumvent the curse?” She asked again, drawing attention away from Lizzie’s outburst and keeping the group firmly focused on the task at hand.

Penelope lays out their game plan.

“The Virgos had unknowingly created a few loopholes when they twisted the original

Merge. The effects of the Merge only come into play at 22. We know that the curse is passed on through the bloodline but all witch bloodlines carry with it a magical signature. All we need to do is mask Josie and Lizzie’s individual magical signature until you both turn 23. No Gemini signature means the curse can’t be triggered. To do that, we need to do our own version of the Merge. Hope will bind herself to Lizzie. Her tribrid signature is unique enough to cover you, Malibu Barbie. As for me, I’ll bind myself to Josie. After you both turn 23, Hope and I can unbind ourselves and your powers will be yours again.”

Josie could hardly believe her ears. The plan was absolutely ingenious. The Virgos had twisted the Geminis’ most revered ritual into their most feared curse and Penelope manipulated it back into their saving grace. There was only one little hiccup.

“You’re binding yourself to… _me_?” Josie inquires the Park witch, all trace of reservations evident in her voice.

“You need a potent magical signature—”

“We literally have a coven full of Virgo descendants,” the brunette attempts.

“We need them to perform the binding spell for us. Their own magical signature is needed to alter the curse. Think of it like an organ transplant. If the blood cells aren’t compatible, the body will reject the procedure.”

“What about any number of witches at Salvatore?”

“You and I are descendants of the original covens. You know none of our students come from the The Twelve. My magical signature is the only one distinctive enough to camouflage yours.”

“Well, how about—“

“ _Jojo_ ,” the nickname ringing in the brunette’s ears, “We don’t have time to argue. We need the blood moon to complete the ritual and it’s about to pass its highest point. There won’t be another blood moon for 2 years. By then, you’ll be just shy of 24. It’ll be too late. _I’m sorry_ it has to be me, but this is our only shot.”

The siphon stares into the her former lover’s eyes as bright green orbs stare back at her in equal parts resolve and plea. There were so many questions to ask, so many things left unsaid between the two of them. But Penelope’s right, they don’t have time and Josie has to give Penelope the very thing she’s scared to grant: trust.

“Okay,” the brunette softly relents, “Lead the way”

Penelope nods, sending a small smile towards the siphon. _Thank you for trusting me._

The brunette then reaches for her twin, the blond responding by encasing Josie’s hand in both of hers. Merge or no Merge, they were in this together. Caroline and Alaric steps forward to wrap both of their daughters in an embrace, each placing a tender kiss on each of the twins’ foreheads. They need this to work. Decades of searching has culminated in this moment. Their daughters’ lives are out of their hands now. Then the pair breaks away, leaving the siphons walk into the ritual circle with Penelope and Hope.

The four sit on each point of the circle. The ground cold and damp beneath them. Josie and Penelope situates across from each other, Lizzie and Hope doing the same. The latter pair stretches their arms, their hands effortlessly grasping each other’s. Penelope reaches her own arms out, both open palms awaiting their counterparts. Josie takes a breath before placing her hands in Penelope’s.

Their first contact in years sends electricity coursing through their bodies. It’s static, Josie tells herself. No big deal.

Penelope turns back to the witches gathered in a circle behind them. When she send one of them a firm nod, the chanting begins. The four closes their eyes and allows the spell to overtake them. Within a few seconds, an intense cerulean light glows from where the pairs’ hands are joined. An almost uncomfortable heat follows from where the blinding light originates. The ferocity of the heat nearly prompting the twins to pulls their hands away. But as soon as Josie fidgets, Penelope grips tighter, her thumb gently stroking the brunette’s hands in reassurance. _Hang on_.

Before long, the brunette can feel the familiar course of Penelope’s powers running through her veins. This version of the Merge feels all too similar. Of course, she has siphoned from the girl in the past, in dangerous and _recreational_ circumstances alike. Each time had sent an addicting sense of exhilaration through her. But the realities of being a siphon meant that the high faded as soon as the power was gone. This time, things feel different. She can feel Penelope’s magic making a home in her veins. She can feel it traveling through her body and latching on. In turn, she feels a part of herself leaving her, running straight from her core into where their hands remain joined and settling into Penelope’s own veins. Josie is Penelope’s power source and vice versa. The brunette’s starting to understand why the original Merge made the Geminis so feared. She feels practically invincible.

As the chanting fades to an end and the azure lights dimming in accordance, the four open their eyes. Lizzie and Hope beam at each other, a reassuring nod to the success of the ritual. Then brown eyes seek out green, Penelope and Josie’s connection—magical and otherwise—humming between them. She’s bound to the Park witch. Her intrepid ex is bound to her.

Shit, what is she gonna tell her girlfriend?


	2. It's Just...Complicated

When Josie wakes up the next morning, she settles on a few key decisions.

The first being that she’s determined to avoid any and all interactions with a certain green-eyed temptress. Other than the initial rush of Penelope’s magic that surged through her veins last night, she hasn’t felt a trace of the witch’s presence and she’s determined to keep it that way. It was damn near impossible to avoid Penelope’s lingering looks the night before. If she was honest with herself, she’d admit that she had a difficult time not staring at the witch in return. But that momentary relapse only strengthened her resolve. Surely she can go through a year without falling back into the witch’s orbit. After all, she has a girlfriend to think about.

Which brings Josie point number two: keeping the knowledge of the ritual away from said girlfriend. Nothing good can come out of telling her current significant other that she’s bound to her first love. It doesn’t help that her girlfriend wasn’t privy to the curse of the Merge in the first place. Josie has only gotten together with the girl a handful of months ago and the “Hey-I-might-die-at-22” talk never quite came up. It’s conflict management, she tells herself, plain and simple.

The siphon’s third and final resolve is convincing Caroline to go into town for a much needed mother-daughter brunch. Lizzie and Hope left campus a few minutes ago on a brunch date of their own, leaving Josie with a rare opportunity to spend some one-on-one time with her mother. Now that the threat of the Merge is behind them, there can’t possibly be anything else occupying Caroline’s time—or so she thinks.

The sound of muffled voices surprises Josie as she nears her mother’s office. It’s certainly not uncommon for the Headmaster or the Headmistress to have visitors in their respective offices, but Caroline has been back less than 24 hours. What could possibly be so important that it demands her attention this early in the day?

Soon enough, the muted conversation quickly turns into a full-blown argument. Josie strains her ears against the door to frustrating results, deciding instead to siphon away the silencing spell enveloping the office. Unfortunately, Josie’s only able to hear the tail-end of her mother’s voice before a thundering of footsteps on the other side of the door has her scrambling back to hide around the corner of the hallway.

“Penelope!” Caroline’s agitated voice rings out as the door swings open and a furious Penelope bolts out into the hallway. 

Josie is only graced with a view of Penelope’s retreating form, but it was enough for her to notice the way Penelope’s leather jacket and black pants cling to her curves. Josie’s annoyed at her own body for even reacting to it.

_Damn that binding spell._

When Penelope disappears around the opposite corner, Josie hazards a peek into Caroline’s office. The exasperated vampire has an opened grimoire infront of her and the sight intrigues Josie enough to make her presence known.

“Morning, Mom.”

At the sound of Josie’s voice, Caroline vamp-speeds the grimoire back to its shelf, all traces of her prior annoyance vanished from her ageless face. “ _Josie_ , honey! Hi!” 

“Was that the Bennett Grimoire?” Josie cuts to the chase, her mother’s overly-enthusiastic greeting not fooling her for a second.

The grimoire was gifted to the school by the one and only, Bonnie Bennett, and housed in the safety of Caroline and Alaric’s private collection. It’s only taken out in when extremely necessary and usually in the presence of Bonnie herself. The fact that her mother and Penelope were looking through it together sparks a sense of dread in her like nothing else.

“Maybe…” Caroline deflects, looking through other random paperwork strewn about her desk.

“Can you even read a grimoire?” The siphon asks incredulously.

Caroline throws a hand over her heart in mocked offense. “Penelope has taught me a few things from our years together. I must say, my Latin has gotten so much better. And I definitely know what _ignalusa_ means now.”

Josie knows Caroline is only making a joke of things to ease her worries, but the reminder of Penelope’s time abroad produces the opposite effect. A part of her is all too aware of the fact that she should be thanking the green-eyed witch for saving her and Lizzie’s lives, but it doesn’t change the fact that she abandoned Josie all by herself after dropping a Merge-sized bomb on her lap. She can’t forgive Penelope for leaving.

The sound of rustling papers snaps Josie back to the mystery at hand. “What are you researching anyway? Maybe I can help.”

“Oh, it’s nothing to worry about, honey. Just a few loose ends from my travels.” Caroline shoves the rest of the papers into a drawer beside her, a clear signal for Josie to drop the matter.

“If it’s nothing, why can’t you tell me?” Josie presses further, her signature pout out in full force now.

Caroline sighs, rubbing her hands up and down Josie’s arms in a calming gesture. “It’s not that I can’t tell you. It’s just…complicated.”

Josie shakes her head, disappointment written all over her face as she turns to leave. “I thought we were done keeping secrets, Mom.”

Josie hears her mother calling her name behind her but she shuts it out. The siphon focuses instead on the green eyed witch at the cause of her troubles. She really shouldn’t be surprised that Penelope has returned with secrets. It’s all the witch was ever good at doing. But to drag her mother into it too? The thought sparks a rage in her that Josie’s all too happy to fuel. After all, what better way to distract herself than to revert back to hating Penelope Park?

————

When she enters the cafeteria later in the morning, the last person she expects to find amongst the crowd is the object of her ire. Whereas Penelope would be the center of everyone’s attention back in the day, the Penelope of today sits by herself off to the side of the room. It wasn’t as if everyone ignored Penelope. In fact, the room seems to be buzzing with murmurs of the witch’s return and while eager former minions are salivating to approach her, Penelope’s body language exudes a displeasure no one wants directed their way—no one but Josie’s own girlfriend.

Josie has always admired Mia’s carefree attitude and tenacity, she really wishes her wolf of a girlfriend wouldn’t stir up trouble right now. The blond wolf knows of Josie’s history with Penelope, unfortunately, not from the horse’s mouth. Penelope was popular amongst all the supernaturals. Witches, wolves, and vampires all claimed her as their own. It really was no surprise the the wolves spilled the beans about Penelope and Josie a few months into Mia’s enrollment at Salvatore. There was an unspoken agreement between them that the subject of her ex would be off-limits. Of course, neither of them ever expected Penelope herself to return. Now that she is, Josie has no idea what Mia would do or say to the Park witch.

She watches as Mia invites herself to sit opposite Penelope, cautiously takes a few steps forward when Penelope’s stoic countenance faces the girl infront of her. She can’t see Mia’s face from where she is, but whatever words are being exchanged, the tension is palpable. Josie sees Penelope get in the last word before calmly getting up and walking away. A graceful flick of Penelope’s wrist sends the cafeteria’s large double doors flying open before she even reaches it and as she crosses the threshold, the doors swing close obediently behind her. It’s a quiet display of power, Josie notices, a silent warning to her girlfriend and everyone else in the room watching.

“Well, that looked like a tense conversation,” Josie remarks, finally walking up beside her stewing girlfriend. Being embarrassed is one thing, but being embarrassed by your girlfriend’s ex in room full of her peers must stinging more than acid on a bleeding cut.

Mia looks back at Josie as if she’s been caught. “Your ex isn’t exactly a ray of sunshine.”

“Did she say something to you?” She figured that talking to Penelope would be a horrible idea, but she’s almost surprised by the witch’s lack of reaction. Anyone who knows Penelope knows that the witch is never one to hold back her thoughts. Something about it all doesn’t sit right with her.

“Nothing I can’t handle.” Mia replies, snaking a possessive arm around Josie’s waist.

“Well, I’m gonna find out.”

“Jo, you don’t have to do that. I’ve got it hand—” Mia’s protests fall on deaf ears. The siphon is gone before she finishes her sentence.

————

As it turns out, finding Penelope is a more exhausting task than Josie thought it would be. She looked all over campus, even knocked on the witch’s old room, but Penelope is nowhere to be found. Josie has half to mind to use a locator spell on the witch when she notices a strange tingling sensation at the back of the neck. She’s standing infront of the library and as the feeling runs down to the base of her spine, she just _knows_ Penelope is in there.

The grand library is deserted—it’s the weekend after all. Josie isn’t surprised by the lack of activity within its walls, but it is strange that Penelope would come here of all places. She thought for sure she’d find the witch smoking her own blend of weed up on the roof. Her eyes scan left and right through the rows of books for the girl in question.

She comes up empty, deciding then to venture to Penelope’s favorite reading spot. The little reading area is situated infront of a large window looking out onto the school gardens. Penelope loved it here, adored the way the sunlight falls on the space as she gazed at the different flowers planted outside the windows. Josie remembers countless rainy afternoons and test-cramming nights here with the raven haired witch.

There’s a reason she doesn’t study in the library anymore.

_“Jojo..baby, wake up,” Penelope’s gentle voice drifts through the air as Josie registers the witch’s soft strokes running up and down her back._

_Somewhere in her sleep-muddled mind, she vaguely remembers falling asleep as she was reading a particularly snooze-worthy chapter of The Origins of Hemlock. The brunette had originally planned on finishing up her study session and surprising Penelope for a movie night. Unfortunately, Lizzie’s latest rant kept her longer than she thought and by the time Josie made it to the library, the sun had long set. And while she tried her hardest to absorb the ever so intriguing history of a poisonous root, she could only fight her exhaustion for so long._

_“5 more minutes,” Josie mumbles, clinging onto the last tantalizing remnants of sleep._

_Penelope chuckles, pulling up a chair beside her Sleeping Beauty. This is gonna take awhile. Despite her sunny disposition, Josie is not a morning person and waking her from any sort of slumber is akin to disturbing a dormant volcano. Penelope’s go-to tactic usually involves kisses on the brunette’s face until she wakes, but that strategy is impossible at the moment considering how Josie is slumped over the table with her face buried in her elbow. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you if you wake up with a backache tomorrow.”_

_Josie mutters an incoherent sentence, her words distorted by said elbow._

_“What’s that?” Penelope asks, leaning in closer to the brunette, kissing the bit of exposed skin on side of her face for good measure._

_Josie lifts her head the tiniest bit at the feel of Penelope’s lips. It’s an instinct at this point for her to react to the witch’s lips, always seeking just a little more. “My legs are asleep,” the brunette repeats, a yawn slipping out of her._

_Penelope lets out another laugh at her girlfriend’s childish antics. “C’mon, you big baby, let’s get you back to bed.”_

_The raven haired witch slings one of Josie’s arms over her shoulders as she lifts the brunette up out of the uncomfortable chair. Once she has a firm grip on the girl, Penelope sets out on the arduous task of walking them both out of the library. She’s only a couple of steps in when Josie stumbles, her legs feeling like pins and needles. But Penelope keeps a firm grip on her, readjusting the brunette’s arm as they walk on the rest of the way._

_“I’ve got you, Jojo. I’ve got you…”_

It was only a few months later that the raven-haired witch so callously broke things off with her. She’s learned by now that Penelope’s words don’t mean a thing. There’s a nagging part of her, _far_ in the back of her brain, that protests her black and white logic. But she tunes it out, has been tuning it out since the day Penelope left Salvatore.

When Josie finds the table empty, she lets out a disappointed huff, resigning herself to cease her search of the witch for now. But as she walks past the restricted section of the library, the tingling sensation returns stronger than before. Josie doesn’t hesitate this time, siphoning the magical lock and pushing the door open.

Sure enough, Penelope’s there. The witch is situated on the floor, the immediate space around her littered with dozens of opened books and grimoires. Penelope has her eyes closed in concentration, outstretched palms hovering over the rapidly flipping pages. She’s reading, Josie realizes, using magic to absorb the mountain of information before her. It’s incredibly advanced magic. She’s seen Bonnie use a similar technique before, not quite to this extent, but it drained the older witch nonetheless. Penelope barely looks like she’s breaking a sweat.

After a few seconds, Penelope’s eyes startle open, finally sensing that she’s no longer alone. “What are you doing here?”

Josie crosses her arms indignantly at the question. “I could ask you the same thing. This is the restricted section. You know only staffs are allowed to be in here.”

“Caroline gave me access,” the witch answers simply, getting up on her feet. A curt wave of Penelope’s hands send the books back neatly in their proper places. It’s clear she doesn’t want Josie seeing what she was researching.

“I head you and Mom arguing this morning, what was that about?” Josie registers a hint of surprise passing through emerald orbs, but as soon as it came, the witch recovers, slipping her mask of indifference back in place. 

“It’s nothing.”

Josie lets out an annoyed sigh. She wasn’t expecting Penelope to give her a straight answer but seeing it played out in real life irks her to no end. But Josie’s no fool, if there’s a secret Penelope doesn’t want out, there’s no prying it out of her. So she switches gears. “Okay, then what did you say to Mia earlier?”

Penelope fights the urge to roll her eyes. “Why don’t you ask your girlfriend?”

“Why can’t you answer my question?” The brunette fires back. 

Penelope runs a frustrated hand through her hair. She’s proud that Josie has learned to put her foot down, but god, now really isn’t the time. “Fine, you wanna know? She told me to stay away from you and I kindly told her that I don’t take orders from anyone, let alone little pups.”

Josie lets out a disbelieving scoff. “So you antagonized her…”

“I didn’t go looking for trouble and I certainly didn’t go looking for her. _She_ came up to _me!_ ”

Josie raises her voice to match Penelope’s volume. “Look, I don’t know what sick, twisted game you’re playing, but I won’t let you wreck havoc in my life again!”

Penelope invades Josie’s personal space in a flash, getting so close the brunette can see the specks of gold swimming in the witch’s emerald orbs. It’s too much and Josie has to close her eyes at the feel of Penelope’s breath grazing her ear.

When Penelope speaks again, her voice is but a mere whisper. “Even after all this time…I’m only ever gonna be a villain to you, aren’t I?” The slight quiver of Penelope’s voice at the end of her question almost made Josie want to shove her hasty words back into her mouth. But it’s too late.

When she opens her eyes again, the room is empty—like Penelope was never there.

————

Later that night, the students congregate around the Old Mill for a little let-your-hair-down gathering. The three supernatural factions had competed in a classic game of capture-the-flag earlier in the day and the witches are celebrating their long-awaited win, finally halting the vampires’ winning streak. The wolves, desperate to salve their wounded ego, came up with the ingenious idea of challenging the others to a game of beer pong. Mia was recruited a few rounds ago and is holding her own quite nicely considering the copious amounts of alcohol running through her bloodstream.

Josie sits off off by the side, observing the game from afar, but more content to spend her time with Lizzie, Hope, and MG. After they all graduated from high school, none of them wanted to leave the safety of Salvatore School. The supernatural community as tight-knit as theirs was hard to come by. And while the individual factions are equally competitive against each other, they’re a family. Alaric agreed, registering online classes for the students so that they can get their university degree from within Salvatore gates. The set up meant that the school is more populated than ever, but no one really minded. The more the merrier indeed, especially when it came to their parties.

The group was laughing at some joke MG made when Josie suddenly feels something moving inside of her jacket. When she reaches into the pocket, the brunette is surprised to find a folded note. It takes her less than a heartbeat to recognize Penelope’s immaculate handwriting.

_I’m not here to cause any trouble. I promise I’ll stay out of your way._

Josie stands up, searching the crowd for the raven-haired witch. She knows Penelope has to be around somewhere, her magically delivered note is a sure sign of that. Josie finally spots her off in the shadows, her black leather jacket camouflaging her to her surroundings.

Penelope’s face is unreadable as their eyes lock. It bothers Josie that Penelope has built such an impenetrable wall around herself. Penelope’s eyes used to be the most expressive part of herself. Josie could take one look into her eyes and know what the witch was thinking. Of course, she could ever only read Penelope because Penelope allowed her to. Not anymore. The thought lingers in her head as Penelope turns and leaves, disappearing into the darkness of the forrest.

Josie can’t help but think that something is seriously wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there you have it! Please let me know what you think and drop your girl a kudos--maybe a comment if you're feeling generous ;)


	3. You Can't Do This Alone

“ _God!_ ” Penelope chokes out, wiping a stray trail of Caroline’s blood from her chin. “No offense, Caroline, but that just tastes worse and worse.”

The vampire laughs at the twisted grimace set on the young witch’s face. It takes a lot for Penelope to break her tough girl facade, but their healing sessions never fail to turn the Park witch into a whiney child. “None taken, kiddo.”

Shaking the remnants of her disgust away, Penelope pulls a blood bag out of Caroline’s fridge and tossing it her way, knowing the vampire needed to feed too. Caroline catches the blood bag with ease, throwing a pack of sour worms back at Penelope. Words aren’t necessary. Looking after one another is a well-rehearsed routine for them now, mealtimes included.

They weren’t always a good team: Penelope was too impulsive and Caroline too protective. But over the years, they’ve learned to adapt to each other’s idiosyncrasies and learned to accept the way each other’s minds work. The unlikely duo have also picked up each other’s respective preferences too, like how Penelope secretly loves knitting when she’s anxious and how Caroline thinks B-Negative blood tastes like Vodka Cranberry. So the vampire makes sure to keep some yarn and needles in their travel bag and in return, Penelope always procures a stash of exclusively B-Negative blood whenever they’re getting ready to be on the move. It’s the little things that makes all the difference. 

“Are you feeling better?” Caroline asks, motherly concern apparent in her voice.

Penelope nods, plopping herself down on the chair opposite Caroline’s desk. “It’s better…but our sessions are getting more frequent. Can’t imagine that’s good news.”

“You’ve been using more magic lately,” Caroline deadpans. “Now that Josie’s linked to you, every time she uses magic, it drains you too.”

The vampire had warned her about the excessive magic use, but Penelope couldn’t help herself. Telling her to not use magic was like telling a fish not to swim. She knew the magical bond between her and Josie would affect her negatively if she’s not careful. But in true Penelope fashion, it was a risk she was willing to take. 

“I made sure to block certain parts of my magic from Josie. She won’t be affected,” the witch promises. Part of the reason the ritual had been delayed this long was because Penelope needed to put extra precautionary measures in place. There was no way she’d resign Josie to the same affliction overtaking her body.

“It’s not just Josie I’m worried about,” Caroline counters pointedly. The vampire has seen her young companion inching close to death’s door more times than she can count.

Caroline continues examining Penelope’s face, seeing color slowly returning to the witch’s face. She couldn’t help the concern bubbling up in her again. “How long can you keep this up, Penelope?”

The witch sighs, a heavy burst of air rising from the depths of her gut. “I don’t know how much longer I can hold it back,” she admits.

Penelope has lived with her unique affliction almost a year now and every moment seems to get harder, like pushing a bolder up an unending hill. She’s held on this long for a certain doe-eyed siphon. Now that they’re linked together, giving up is _not_ an option. But it doesn’t mean the tempting thought hasn’t entered her mind. It lingers in her brain more often than she’d like.

“Why don’t you ask Hope for help?”

Penelope shakes her head. As much as she appreciated the tribrid’s help with the finishing touches of the ritual, this matter needs to be handled far more discreetly. “She’ll tell Lizzie and Lizzie’ll tell Josie. I don’t want her to know.”

“Why are you so hell-bent on keeping this from her?”

“I know Josie…if she finds out she’s inconveniencing someone in some way, she’ll want out. I just—“ Penelope averts her eyes. “I don’t want her to hate me more than she already does.”

“Oh, kiddo, she doesn’t hate you.”

“Have you seen the way she’s looked at me lately? If we weren’t bound, I’m sure she’d burn me on the spot.” Penelope can’t keep the slight undertone of bitterness from seeping into her voice, but she knows Caroline would understand.

Though Penelope initially intended on downplaying her feelings for Josie infront of Caroline, the entire plan crumbled fairly quickly. Tracking the vampire down in Belgium and insisting she be part of the mission was a pretty obvious giveaway after all. However, it was after a particularly bad bout of night terrors that Caroline truly came to appreciate the depths of Penelope’s feelings. The vampire had heard a blood-curling scream, rushing immediately into the adjoining room to find Penelope curled up in a ball, rocking herself with her tear-stained face buried between her knees. The young witch tried to speak, but words failed her. The only sound Caroline could decipher between the hiccups of Penelope’s sobs sounded suspiciously like her daughter’s name. All the vampire could do was hold the young witch tight. It was only after dawn broke that Penelope finally fell back asleep, her exhaustion winning out. There was no questioning Penelope’s feelings after that.

“There’s a thin line between love and hate,” Caroline reasons, drawing a scoff from Penelope in return.

The vampire rolls her eyes at the stubborn witch. There will be time to grill Penelope about Josie later, but for now, they have other pressing matters to attend to.

“Well, I hate to break to you, kiddo, but you can’t do this alone. You’ll need another witch to help. And if you won’t go to Hope, at least talk to Bonnie.”

Penelope considers her suggestion for a moment before nodding, grabbing a purple prism from Caroline’s bookshelf and setting it in the middle of Caroline’s desk. Penelope holds her hand out, muttering an incantation as the prism glows. When the light fades, an older woman is sitting opposite them, arms crossed in annoyance.

“You summon me out of nowhere and I don’t even get coffee?” Bonnie snarks, waving her hands at the empty table before her. 

Penelope cracks a smile. Now this, she can work with.

————

It’s nearing midnight by the time Penelope makes it out of the library, her growling stomach pushing her out of the uncomfortable chair and into the kitchen. She has yet to make any progress on her predicament. Bonnie had been a fountain of information, though, none which can relieve her condition. The older witch directed her to a few European sources, but that led to a dead-end as well.

Penelope is well aware that she’s exhausting her options. It’s only a matter of time before she will have to go to the one of the most ancient witches around: Freya Mikaelson. The eldest Mikaelson proved invaluable before, putting her and Caroline on the trail of the Vitulus Coven. It also led to her teaming with Hope on the idea of a counter-Merge. She’d never admit it, but working with the tribrid was…fun. Their banter and quips made her feel her age again. Sometimes, Penelope forgets she’s only 22. There are days she feels as aged and worn as the sun herself.

The raven-haired witch is so caught up in her musings that she’s already turning the corner into the kitchen by the time she comes to. The first thing she spots is a long mane of blonde hair. It doesn’t take much to guess why Lizzie is making tea for two this late. She chuckles internally. As whipped as Hope is for Lizzie, it seems same goes for the other Saltzman as well.

“Well, hello there, Satan. Pretty predictable of you to only show your face this late at night.” To most people, Lizzie’s greeting would be seen as an act of provocation, but Penelope knows better. Despite the snide remarks, the blonde’s words are lacking their usual bite.

“Hello to you too, knock-off Barbie,” Penelope returns, a hint of a smile on her face.

Lizzie lets out a curt hum in response, an unspoken truce between the two of them as they go about their respective tasks in the kitchen.

Penelope sets to work on a quick pasta, her hands trembling slightly from not having eaten anything all day. The dish comes together quick enough, Pasta al Limone has always been a favorite of hers. She tries to not think about the fact that Josie was the one who introduced it to her. Whenever she craves it, she tells herself it’s because her stomach is demanding the dish, not because her heart is missing a certain someone.

Out of the corner of her eye, Lizzie is putting finishing touches on her little tea set. She’s about to pick up the tray when she abruptly changes course, walking up to Penelope instead.

The blond siphon chews her lips for a moment as if she’s contemplating some grand gesture. At the last second, she seems to abandon her plan yet again, settling for a sincere thank you directed at the other occupant in the room. 

“For what?” Penelope asks, confusion quickly overtaking her face. She’s still getting used to this strange ceasefire between them, her brain can’t catch up just yet.

Lizzie rolls her eyes at the witch’s cluelessness. “For saving my life.”

_Oh, that…_

“I mean, I know you were mainly trying to save Josie’s. Lucky for me, it’s a two-in-one deal. So thank you.”

“Not that I was ever expecting a thank you, but you’re definitely not the twin I thought I’d hear it from,”Penelope confesses, sharing a rare moment of vulnerability with Lizzie.

True to her promise, Penelope hasn’t shared the same space with Josie since their altercation in the library. The brunette made her position crystal clear. The least Penelope can do is honor it. It’s an ironic twist of fate that Josie’s wrath created the perfect opportunity for Penelope to work out her situation away from prying eyes. Still, she can’t help the sense of devastation that overwhelms her whenever gentle brown eyes harden at the sight of hers. Penelope recognized what she was giving up when she left Salvatore, but knowing and experiencing are wildly different beasts. And she’s not sure how long she can withstand the latter.

“Josie’s thankful too, you know. She’s just too caught up in her hurt to admit it.”

Penelope brushes it off. “She seems to be pretty occupied with her possessive little wolf.”

“Wolves are instinctually territorial,” Lizzie adds in her usual matter-of-fact tone.

“Is Mikaelson?”

“She’s only a third wolf,” Lizzie clarifies, “And who would she have to be jealous of anyways? As if a soul in Salvatore would dare cross a tribrid.” Penelope detects a hint of pride in Lizzie’s voice. Since Hope triggered her vampire side, she became even more formidable. Only a fool would dare take her on.

Penelope lets out a tragic chuckle, she could relate to that. There wasn’t a soul, immortal or not, who would dare test Penelope’s temper when it came to Josie. But that was a mark of an era gone by. Josie isn’t hers anymore, if only her heart would accept it. 

“Is she happy?” Penelope suddenly asks, hating how small her voice sounds at the question. She’s been too vulnerable with the blonde already.

Lizzie ponders her former enemy’s words, torn between being honest and being fair.

“She tries to be.” The blond settles on saying, offering Penelope a solemn smile as she picks up her tea tray and walks out of the kitchen.

The raven-haired witch lets those words wash over her. She doesn’t know what it means. All she has ever wanted is for Josie to be safe and happy. Penelope knows she’ll do anything to achieve both.

There’s still a hundred things Penelope needs to do, but at the very least, she’s made her peace with one twin. As she digs into her cooling pasta, she can only pray to the ancestors that she’ll be able to do the same with Josie. One day.

————

The next morning, Penelope wakes up with a dull headache. Though it’s not the first time these throbbing nuisances have disturbed her, it is the first time they’re popping up this early in the morning. Penelope doesn’t want to think about what might mean for her declining condition.

Pushing herself out of bed, Penelope settles on a walk in the school gardens. It’s still fairly early out, barely past sunrise, and most of the school population is still dead to the world. The outside air is brisk as Penelope strolls and the rush of oxygen into her body momentarily lessens the pain at the back of her head.

She comes to a stop near a patch of daisies and her heart clenches. Josie loved the delicate little things. There’s an old polaroid hidden behind her phone case of Josie sitting crosslegged in a field of daisies. It was from a simpler time, taken when the two of them were barely fifteen, but it never fails to make Penelope smile. She has looked at it so many times throughout the years that the edges are wrinkled and torn. As silly as it sounds, Penelope counts the old picture as one of her most treasured possessions. It’s one of the few things she has left of Josie after all.

Sighing at the memory, she forces herself to keep walking. She’s just a few yards away from the building when the migraine returns with a vengeance. The pain is so destabilizing that Penelope has to grip the side of the tree trunk to keep herself upright. The pain comes like a storm making landfall, waves upon waves of it relentlessly crashing into her. The witch squeezes her eyes shut, focusing on the breathing exercises Caroline taught her.

Another surge of pain has barely subsided when a trickle of blood makes its way from her nostril, splattering in rapid succession onto the ground beneath her. Penelope looks down in horror at the matted and bloodied grass, her hand shaking as another droplet of the offending substance drips onto it. Things are worse than she thought. The witch quickly wipes the remainder of the rouge trail away with the back of her hand, taking in another trembling breath of air.

She’s just about to take a shaky step forward when she feels a pair of arms reaching out to stabilize her. The touch jolts her out of her pain.

“Penelope? What’s wrong?” Josie’s worried voice rings through the air.

The witch focuses all of her energies into standing upright, pushing her pain on the back-burner as she attempts a brave face for Josie. “I’m—I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine. What was that?” Josie lifts her hands to cradle Penelope’s heated cheeks, her eyes searching the contours of the witch’s face for answers.

“Nothing,” Penelope grits out, a smaller ripple of pain striking just behind eyes.

The brunette drops her hands at Penelope’s weak attempt to deflect, frustration quickly replacing her growing concern. “Is that the only thing you can say? Because it’s all you’ve been saying lately.”

“Josie…”

_Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale._

“…I don’t want to fight.”

“We don’t have to, just tell me what’s going on,” Josie demands, putting her hands on either side of her hips.

“It was just a nosebleed. People get those—”

“Bullshit! Penelope, tell me the truth!”

The witch winces at Josie’s tone, the high-pitched cry doing nothing to aid her aching skull. To make matters worse, she sees Mia running up to them from the corner of her eyes. The world is not being kind to her today.

“Hey! Didn’t I tell you to stay away from her?” The wolf yells, wedging herself between Josie and Penelope despite the brunette’s obvious protests.

Penelope directs her hardened stare towards the offending wolf, her voice dropping to a dangerous growl. “Walk away, pup. This doesn’t concern you.”

“Like hell it doesn’t, she’s my girlfriend!” The wolf continues, completely oblivious to what she walked in on.

Josie pulls the girl back, sensing the shift in Penelope. “Mia, that’s enough.”

“I’d listen to her if I were you,” Penelope warns, fingers digging half-moons into her palm in an attempt to hold herself back.

Sure enough, the wolf doesn’t listen, pushing full steam ahead with her tirade. It’s clear she’s wanting payback on their little moment in the cafeteria. “Your friends have left you. Your family doesn’t want to associate with you. Josie is lucky to be rid of you. Can’t you take a fucking hint that no one wants you around?!”

Penelope snaps.

In an instant, the wind around them picks up to worrying speeds, howling menacingly as loose leaves and branches fly in every direction around them. The surrounding trees join in the riot as well, whipping their limbs back and forth. Josie and Mia can barely stand in place, the force of the wind threatening to push them with each passing second.

But Penelope remains rooted. She can barely register Josie crying her name through the roaring winds. She knows she’s losing control. Her vision blurs, black orbs flickering in place of her emerald eyes. Penelope realizes she can’t hold it back much longer.

Thankfully, she doesn’t have to.

Caroline appears in a flash, pushing Penelope back against the tree.

“Penelope! Penelope!” Caroline yells, frantically shaking the witch by her shoulders, her vampiric strength the only thing keeping her from being blown back. The matriarch had seen the brewing storm through her windows, knowing exactly who caused it. She has seen it increasingly often in Penelope. She knows what needs to be done.

“Get me out of here,” Penelope bites out, her voice laced with agony. The fingers digging into her palms finally breaking skin, bits of ruby blood seeping out.

Caroline turns back towards the shell-shocked pair behind her, sending Josie an apologetic look before speeding Penelope deep into the woods.

As soon as the raven-haired witch vacates the vicinity, the air around the garden calms. The only wreckage she leaves behind is a dumbstruck Josie Saltzman wondering what the hell just happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think is going on with Penelope? Feel free to share your theories with me!
> 
> As some of you may realize, the Mia in this story is a very different character than the Mia in “I’ll Do It For Her”. You have the green light to hate on her a little. 
> 
> As always, please leave your girl a comment or a like. They make my day. Stay safe, everyone!


	4. One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

A few days later, Caroline gathers her girls and Hope for a meeting in the Headmistress’ Office. No one needed any preamble about reason for their gathering. They all knew it had to do with Penelope. Since her breakdown in the school gardens, not a soul but Caroline has had access to the raven-haired witch.

It’s been less than seventy-two hours, but to Josie, it’s felt more like weeks. She’s been on a rollercoaster of emotions, going through her own version of the various stages of grief. The first emotion to hit her was shock, absolute numbness paralyzing her entire mental apparatus, blocking her from analyzing the situation. Seeing Penelope’s eyes transform into menacing sable orbs was too much for her.

The second reaction was denial, telling herself that Penelope losing control was just part of the “new” Penelope she doesn’t know. If Caroline felt safe enough to be around the girl, there couldn’t possibly be anything wrong. The witch descended from one of the most powerful lines in history, she had to be ok. Josie simply wouldn’t accept any other outcomes.

But just as denial settled, anger emerged out of the blue, directing itself at everyone around her. The unfortunate victim to receive any lasting damage was Mia.

_“What are you doing?” Mia asks, finally catching up to Josie’s determined pace through the dorms._

_The brunette stares at the wolf, expressionless. “I’m going to see Penelope.”_

_The wolf gapes at her girlfriend like she’s grown a second head. “What? No! She’s unstable, you saw what happened back there!” As soon as Josie makes a move forward, Mia immediately grabs hold of Josie’s wrist, keeping her in place._

_“Let. Go.” There’s no mistaking her intentions, the siphon’s tone is as curt and resolute as can be._

_“Josie, Penelope’s dangerous,” the blond attempts to reason, “You’re not going to see her. I won’t allow it!”_

_“YOU won’t allow it?”_

_Mia freezes at the threatening look that crosses Josie’s face. She’s never seen Josie direct that look towards anyone. But if looks aren’t enough, the siphon’s next words cut like a blade._

_“Let’s get one thing clear. The only person who’s allowed to place boundaries on my actions is me. Since you can’t seem to understand that, let me make it abundantly clear. I’m done with you.”_

_Mia tries in vain to protest, but shuts right up when Josie puts a hand out to stop her._

_“And by the way, your alpha is not going to happy to hear what you did. He’s Penelope’s old drinking buddy. So I’d stay far, far away from her if I were you…before I personally make sure of that myself.”_

The wolf was lucky Josie decided to expel her from her life with fiery words rather than actual burning flames. Though, she had to admit, the thought was tempting. In truth, their relationship was beginning fizzle out even before Penelope’s arrival. Mia’s brash actions since then have only solidified Josie’s resolve to end the relationship quickly. No outsider gets to mess with Penelope and gets away with it. Of course, she recognizes the hypocrisy in that thinking. The brunette was furious at herself too. She’s been blinded by rage and insecurities since the witch came back into her life.

Some time past the fiftieth hour, Josie resorted to bargaining, telling herself that she could solve whatever magical affliction ailed the raven-haired witch. Josie locked herself up in the library for hours, searching aimlessly for a solution to a problem she didn’t know or understand. It took hours of Lizzie’s persistent pleas and the smell of Hope’s grilled cheese for her to finally exit the library, empty-handed and as frustrated as ever.

The next twelve hours were filled with guilt, depression finally hitting her full force. Josie wouldn’t tolerate company at that point, resigning herself to the darkness of her room. There, buried under a mountain of blankets, Josie came to accept her own role in the disaster. She was just as responsible for pushing Penelope past her breaking point as Mia was. The siphon knew she hadn’t been kind to Penelope since the girl’s return. She couldn’t help but wonder if a softer approach would have allowed Penelope to let down her guard and tell her what happened. 

The final emotion to hit her came around sunrise: acceptance. Just as the sun’s rays peeked over the horizon, Josie realized Penelope was in deep trouble. Penelope, despite her impetuous nature, would never lose control of her emotions bad enough that she’d physically hurt those around her. But in that moment, when the wind howled around them, Josie could see how hard Penelope was fighting the remain control. It was as if the witch was fighting with another internal force, a force much stronger than she is. The realization sent chills up her spine and the only thing she could do to quell it was to wait for news infront of Penelope’s room.

That’s how Caroline found her a few hours later, fast asleep on the floor with her head resting against the witch’s door. It was surprisingly difficult to wake her, the emotional exhaustion of the past few days catching up with her. By the time Josie came to, she was resting on the soft cushions of Caroline’s couch. Lizzie and Hope entered the room a few minutes after she woke and here they all are. 

“How long will you be gone?” Josie asks, eyebrows furrowing in deep concern.

The brunette is torn. She has only gotten Caroline back, the thought of her leaving for another mission so soon sends a sinking feeling straight to the bottom of her gut. But this mission is crucial. Bonnie had discovered a potential lead that could help Penelope and Caroline didn’t hesitate. There was no stopping the vampire from saving her daughters— _all_ of them.

“I won’t be gone long, honey. A week tops.” Caroline promises, placing the last of her necessities into her travel bag. She turns to the group before her, adding with a cheeky smile, “Do try not to kill each other in the meantime.”

“We _always_ play nice, Mom. You don’t have to worry about us.” Lizzie proves her point by throwing each arm around Hope and Josie, standing up a little taller when Caroline gives her an approving smile.

“Is Penelope going with you?” Josie doesn’t know which answer she prefers. Both options seem like bad ones to her. As much as she wants Penelope to be strong enough to be up and running, the thought of both her mom and Penelope leave on yet another dangerous mission makes her want to hurl.

Caroline sighs, shaking her head slightly. “No…she needs to rest.”

Josie clocks the somber look that passes her mom’s face, she knows things with Penelope are worse than she thought.

“I bet she’s not happy about being benched,” Hope adds. If anyone could understand Penelope’s penchant for danger, it’s the tribrid.

Caroline chuckles softly, thinking back on how livid the witch was that Caroline was going without her. “No, she’s definitely not. But it’s best for everyone if she stays here.” Then she looks straight at Josie, eyes softening just a touch. “Keep an eye on her for me.”

Josie gives a barely there nod, but Caroline registers the motion nonetheless, smiling gently at Josie’s promise.

Caroline’s just about to step past the threshold when Josie calls out to her. “Mom, you can’t go without telling us what happened to Penelope,” Josie presses, pleading eyes almost prompting the vampire to give in—almost.

She is only saved by the impatient honking of Bonnie’s car outside the school gates.

_Beep! Beep! B—Beeb!_

“I have to go, but I _promise_ I’ll tell you when I get back.” The vampire presses a quick kiss to her each of her girls’ foreheads.

“No,” Josie refuses, attempting to get in the way of her mother and the door. “Mom—”

But it’s too late.

“Bye, girls! I’ll call you from the car!”

And Caroline is out the door before the siphon can get another word in.

————

It’s 2am by the time Josie decides that sleep is overrated. She’s tried everything in the book, from counting sheep to white noise—but nothing works. Her mind is on the other side of the building, hidden away in the same room Penelope has yet to come out of.

Sighing in frustration, Josie casts her covers aside, deciding to take a walk to tire herself out. She doesn’t have a destination in mind, but it comes as no surprise to anyone that her feet brings her to the corridor of Penelope’s room. The siphon hesitates a few steps away. Just as she’s about to change her mind and go back to her room, the strange tingling sensation at the back of her neck returns. Josie’s eyebrows scrunch with worry. As much as she’s tried to ignore it, it hasn't gone over her head that the slight prickling feeling always has something to do with Penelope. So Josie opts to listen to it this time.

Pressing her ear up against the door, she hears nothing but the stillness of the night. Penelope’s probably sleeping, Josie muses, just like the rest of the school. She doesn’t know what is was she expected to hear anyways. But the damn tingling sensation still hasn’t gone away and the brunette knows she’s missing something.

Siphoning from the walls, Josie casts a listening spell on the room. The thought of breaching Penelope’s privacy without her consent crosses her mind, but she tells herself that she’s only making sure the raven-haired witch is safe. It’s only for a second after all.

The first thing she hears is the sound of rustling bedsheets. It’s not uncommon for Penelope to be tossing and turning in her sleep. She once went to bed with Penelope curled behind her as the big spoon and woke up with the girl’s head resting on her stomach. But these sounds don’t seem normal at all. They sound almost…frantic…as if Penelope is struggling in her sleep. The brunette doesn’t want to barge in, but the thought of the girl in pain is quickly eliminating all other options.

“Penelope? Pen?” Josie whispers, tapping quick successions of knocks on Penelope’s door. With any luck, she’s just overreacting and the raven-haired witch is perfectly fine and all she’ll have to deal with is an annoyed Penelope asking her why she’s disturbing her sleep.

Of course, her best case scenario doesn’t pan out. Josie’s knocks go unnoticed, but if she knocks any harder, she’ll end up waking the occupants of the surrounding rooms. 

Throwing caution to the wind, the siphon mutters a spell, the lock on Penelope’s door unlatching at her command. She pushes her way inside the room and her eyes are immediately drawn to the witch’s restless form on the bed.

Penelope’s having a nightmare.

The girl looks like she’s fighting against some sort of invisible restraint, thrashing about the bed, her blanket kicked halfway down her body. Penelope’s breathing comes out shallow and rushed, like she’s been running miles without rest. With the dim moonlight shining through the window, Josie can see a thin layer of sweat covering Penelope’s skin, can see the creases and folds on the girl’s face as she grimaces in pain. When the first of the witch’s frightful whimpers leave her mouth, Josie’s heart cracks a little at the sound.

She sits herself down on the edge of the bed, gently shaking the witch’s shoulders to rouse her. “Pen. Pen, wake up.”

Nothing.

“Penelope,” she tries again a little louder, this time cupping the girl’s burning face in her hands.

The witch wakes with a breathless gasp, shooting forward so fast her head almost hit Josie square in the face. Her chest is heaving as she tries to take in air, eyes darting around in fear as her mind tries to catch up with her body.

“Hey, hey, you’re ok. You’re with me. You’re safe,” Josie soothes, rubbing her hand comfortingly on Penelope’s damp shirt.

When the witch’s eyes finally land on hers, what Josie finds swimming in them shocks her: aching pain, paralyzing fear, but most of all, overwhelming exhaustion. The dark circles under her eyes speak volumes of how little sleep Penelope has gotten.

Josie can’t help but bring Penelope closer, coaxing the witch’s trembling form towards her in an embrace. “Shhh, it’s ok. It’s ok…”

After a few minutes, Penelope stops shaking, her thundering heartbeat starting to slow down. The witch mumbles something against Josie’s neck, but the brunette can’t hear it.

“What did you say?” Josie pulls back a little, making sure to still keep her hands around the raven-haired witch.

“Stay,” Penelope rasps out, the simple request exposing all her vulnerabilities.

Josie doesn’t know what exactly prompts her to say yes, it’s probably a combination of her own exhaustion and the lingering terror she sees in Penelope’s usually fearless eyes, perhaps it’s even old feelings catching up to her. But whatever it is, she finds herself easing down on Penelope’s bed, pulling the sheets up to cover them both.

They lay facing each other, close enough that she can feel each of the girl’s shaky exhale as she attempts to get her breathing in check. Penelope has never looked so powerless.

Maybe she leans in first, maybe Penelope does too, but the next thing she knows, her heart feels like it has come home, welcomed by the gentle caress of Penelope’s lips. The kiss starts out unhurried, but as Penelope’s hands reaches to pull her body closer, Josie pushes back with an extra hint of need. The brunette grips Penelope’s face in her hands, opening her mouth a little more when she feels the witch’s tongue begging for entrance. She accepts it with an eager moan, laying back fully when Penelope surges forward, half of her body resting on top of hers.

Josie knows it’s a bad idea. There are too many questions between them, too many unspoken feelings for them to create a new minefield for themselves. But in this moment, with Penelope’s hands impatiently roaming the planes of her bare torso and Josie’s own lips mapping a wet path down the witch’s neck, she figures the Penelope and Josie of tomorrow can figure it out. When Josie looks into Penelope’s eyes again, the distress she found in her favorite emerald orbs are gone. And that’s all she really cares about.

————

_Buzz. Buzz. Buzz._

The vibration of the phone against the wooden bedside table pulls Penelope unceremoniously out from her sleep. Fumbling around blindly, her hand finally comes in contact with the wretched device, tapping on the screen indiscriminately until the alarmed is silenced. As the sunlight streams in through the cracks of the curtain, she uses her hands to shield her sensitive eyes from the offending sun, groaning as the pounding in her head becomes more prominent with each waking moment. The witch rolls over, expecting to ease her migraine by cuddling up to a warm, familiar body, but her eyes shot open as her hands land on cold sheets. At the risk of aggravating her migrant further, Penelope quickly sits up, whipping her head around the room in search of the siphon.

Nothing.

No trace the brunette had been in the room at all. Penelope would think the night before was nothing but an incredibly cruel lucid dream if not for the fact that she woke up without her top—that, and the various reddish-purple bite marks strewn along the base of her neck. She definitely couldn’t have dreamt that up. Penelope looks at herself in the mirror, gently stroking the largest mark that rests on the hollow of her neck. She remembers how Josie’s lips felt, hot and panting against her neck, licking a stripe up the skin when her kisses become too rough. If she thinks hard enough, Penelope can still feel the eager way the siphon tugged at her shirt, her hands hungry for every surface she can touch.

The witch knows she should regret her actions, but as she takes one more lingering look at Josie’s marks on her, Penelope just can’t bring herself to. She has spent too many sleepless nights trying to recall the touch of Josie’s lips on hers, believing she might never get the chance to feel it again.

The witch had one of her reoccurring nightmares last night, the one where she’s bound to a tree and forced to watch Josie die. Her travels with Caroline haven’t been without its gory moments and she’s seen far too many corpses in one lifetime. But the resemblance of those cadavers etched onto Josie’s face never fails to turn her insides out.

Imagine her surprise when she opens her eyes right into Josie’s sparkling ones, when she fell into the brunette’s assuring embrace. It was such a contrast to all the other times she has woken up before, terrified and alone, unable to fall back asleep until daybreak forces her up anyways. Josie’s touch last night soothed her like no other. It grounded her in reality. Josie’s alive and feeling her heart racing against her naked skin pushed her nightmare out of her mind—if only for that moment. Penelope knows it was a selfish move but she couldn’t help herself.

And now she has to deal with the repercussions. 

The witch finds her siphon wandering one of the empty hallways, watching as her back stiffens when Penelope calls out her name. As Josie turns around, Penelope already knows she has her cut out for her. She approaches the siphon slowly, giving her enough time to walk away if she changes her mind.

“Hey,” Penelope breathes out, her voice sounding more exposed than she’d like. But Josie’s always had a way of unarming her, hasn’t she?

“Hi,” Josie answers back, her eyes looking at everything around them but Penelope.

The witch lets out a sigh, not really sure how to start the conversation they need to have. “Listen, Jojo, I’m sorry. Last night was—“

“A mistake,” Josie finishes. 

“What?” She knew from Josie’s hard expression that she has an uphill battle infront of her, but she didn’t see Josie’s tactic of blatant denial coming.

Josie meets Penelope’s eyes for the first time that morning, her face set in resolve. “I shouldn’t have come into your room and I shouldn’t have kissed you. I’m sorry. That’s that.”

The brunette turns to leave, but Penelope pushes her feet forward, blocking Josie’s way. “Wait, Jojo, don’t run away from this.”

Josie lets out a scoff. “Oh, that’s rich coming from you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Penelope challenges, getting fed up with Josie’s attitude.

“It means you ran way first! You ran from me when you found out about the Merge. You ran from the school when you thought I’d lose to Lizzie. Running is _your_ thing! How long is it going to be until you run again?”

Penelope feels like she’s been slapped. Her face must have shown it too, because for a brief moment, Josie’s eyes flicker with a hint of guilt. But just as quickly as it came, Josie’s coldness overtakes her again.

The raven-haired witch takes a step back, looking down at the ground to hide her face. It’s always one step forward, two steps back with Josie, but this time, she takes that step back willingly. “You’re right,” Penelope relents, her voice heavy with emotion. “It’s all I’m ever good at doing anyways.”

The raven-haired witch doesn’t bother looking back up at Josie as she walks away. She’s seen enough, heard enough, felt enough. She’s done.

————

The afternoon sun is blazing as it glares down on Penelope, heating her back as she leans on the side of the car. She looks down at the piece of paper in her hand. It’s going to take a lot of magic to send this where it needs to go, but she doesn’t plan on using magic for a while anyways. The witch figures she has some leeway in this situation.

_Caroline,_

_Change of plans. I’ll be back for the unbinding before the twins turn 23. Don’t waste your time following me. Spend it with the twins, you’ve been away from them long enough._

Folding the note neatly into a little letter, Penelope musters the sinister power inside her, sending her message fluttering down softly onto Caroline’s desk at Salvatore across town. She could have just sent the vampire a text, but she doesn’t want Caroline cutting the mission short on her account. Besides, Penelope doesn’t want anyone knowing what she’s up to. The vampire won’t be back for a few days, it should give her enough of a head start. Caroline will be absolutely livid at her, she’s sure of that. But pissing off the women of the Saltzman-Forbes clan seems to be her specialty these days.

With one final sigh, she gets into her rented 2005 Sedan, driving off as the “Welcome to Mystic Falls” sign disappear behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know some of you will be yelling at Josie, but but but! Baby girl’s struggling. As scarred as Penelope is, Josie’s scarred to. And it’s gonna be an uphill battle, so hang in there with me! 
> 
> Let me know what your favorite moment was. I always love reading your thoughts!


	5. I’ll Get The Map

Four days later, Caroline returns to Salvatore, not entirely empty-handed, but still not possessing the answers to the questions that plague them. She doesn’t have a way to save Penelope yet, but the trip wasn’t a complete waste. Penelope’s conundrum is two-fold. She may not have the solution to the former, but a plan for the latter was coming together.

But Penelope, ever the outlier, seems to have plans of her own—the pristinely folded note on her desk says about as much. Caroline couldn’t help the string of profanities that escapes her when she found the little letter. Penelope is impulsive, but she’s never done anything without letting the vampire know. They’re a team. She should have known the radio silence from the young witch these past few days was more than just Penelope expressing her annoyance at being left out of the mission.

But the raven-haired witch going rogue isn’t just reckless, it’s dangerous—to Penelope’s life itself.

“Girls,” Caroline calls, bursting into the twins’ room at full vamp-speed, “We need to find Penelope.”

The twins immediately stop what they were doing from their respective positions on the bed, bewilderment painted on both of their faces.

Lizzie’s the first to react. “Have you tried her room…?”

The matriarch expels out a frustrated puff of air, “Her room’s been cleared out. I don’t know for how long, but we need to get her back.”

Josie’s face blanches at the knowledge. “What? But I just saw her a few….She’s gone?” The last question barely above a whisper, like she’s struggling to comprehend the string of words she had just spoken.

“Honey, when did you see Penelope last?”

Caroline’s maternal senses are on overdrive. Something must have happened between the two of them. Penelope and Josie are only ever so emotionally rash when it comes to each other. But she knows it’s best not to pry into the state of her daughter’s love life in such specific detail right now.

“A few days ago...the morning after you left.” The brunette seems dazed, caught in her own mind, their last interaction playing like a loop in her head. It weights her down like sandbags strapped to her heart.

Caroline rubs her temples at the response. A few days isn’t ideal. Who knows what trouble the young witch has gotten into in her current state of mind?

Looking to Lizzie, Caroline motions her head to the phone beside the girl. “Sweetheart, would you?”

But the blonde is one step ahead of her. “Already done, Mom. Hope’s on her way.”

A few moments later, the tribrid hurries in, her long, flowing hair in disarray from the rush. “What’s going on?”

Caroline motions for the girls to sit down. She had hoped to be explaining Penelope’s situation with the witch herself present. But time is of the essence and they can’t proceed without everyone grasping the full gravity of the situation. She can only hope Josie won’t burn the room down when she hears the truth.

“Penelope’s not well, that much you all know,” the vampire begins, a grim look set on her face. “Truth is, she hasn’t been in almost a year now. The Vitulus flat out refused to help us when we first met them. That was until Penelope offered to give them the one thing they couldn’t refuse. The Vitulus had been searching for the Virgo cursed amulet for centuries. Apparently, they lost it back in the age of the Original Covens. Penelope made a deal to find it for them in return for them helping us.”

Caroline fumbles around in her travel bag, finally pulling out her phone to show them a picture of the amulet. The jeweled cause of their troubles appear almost unassuming. The amulet looks like it belongs in a museum, in some 14th century showcase of rare artifacts from the higher echelons of society. It’s an incredibly detailed piece of work, a large, attention-grabbing cerulean stone in the center kept in place by an intricate metal work shaped into vines and leaves. Even without its magical properties, the amulet is beyond priceless.

“It took years, but when Penelope and I finally found it, it didn’t come without a cost. The amulet needed a guardian and that guardian plays host to the dark magic that the amulet gives off. So, in order for Penelope to take the amulet, she had to become the amulet’s next guardian. But there has been…side effects. The dark magic in her grows its strength whenever Penelope uses magic—like a parasite of sorts. We only have so much time until it assumes full control of Penelope.”

The room is silent, taking a moment to absorb the information Caroline has just given them. It explains a lot, the reason why Penelope has been keeping to herself, how she lost control so completely a few days ago. But something isn’t adding up.

“If the dark magic is in Penelope, why am I not affected?”

At her daughter’s question, Caroline hesitates. She knows Penelope dreaded this part the most and while she hasn’t always agreed with the witch’s choices when it comes to hiding things from Josie, she respected it nonetheless.

“Knowing your history with dark magic, Penelope went through a separate ritual beforehand to make sure parts of her magic are locked away from you. It would have been more difficult to do if the effects are purely physical, but the dark magic in Penelope preys on her mind. It tricks her brain into thinking it’s experiencing pain when it isn’t. Lately, it’s been manifesting itself more physically and Penelope’s been struggling to hold it back.”

Hope’s mind looks like it’s running on overdrive. “But whatever ritual she did, it would need a constant supply of magic to maintain. Doesn’t that defeat the purpose? If the dark magic’s just feeding on the magic used to suppress it?”

The youngest Mikaelson is no stranger to ancient dark magic, she harbored one herself for a short time. It’s the reason her father is no longer with them. Safe to say, the tribrid has her own vendetta against all forms of parasitic magical forces.

Caroline confirms Hope’s theory with a nod. “It was only supposed to be a temporary fix until we find a more permanent solution. Penelope has been having weekly healing sessions with me to alleviate the worse of the physical side effects, but in her current condition…she’ll get much worse without them.”

Caroline’s words hang over the room like a gathering storm cloud. Everyone is well aware of what’s at stake. Time is running out, they need to find Penelope.

Hope stands up at the vampire’s conclusion, cracking her knuckles. “Alright then…I’m guessing a locator spell is in order?”

Caroline nods, pulling out Penelope’s half-finished crochet that she found in their travel bag. It’s the most recent object they have connected to the Park witch.

Josie nods too, although more to herself than to anyone else in the room. “I’ll get the map,” she says, her monotone voice sounding like her mind is miles away.

Lizzie stares after her twin as she exits the room. She knows something happened between the two of them when Josie snuck back into their room at the crack of dawn a few days ago. Things between Penelope and Josie have always been complicated, but when it comes to their well-being, there’s nothing one wouldn’t do for the other. “I guess that leaves the candles to me,” the blonde shrugs, following after her near-catatonic twin.

————

To no one’s surprise, the locator spell failed. They had an inkling the rebellious witch wouldn’t just leave without cloaking herself. The enchantment isn’t impossible to break, but it does serve as time consuming obstacle for the group. Luckily, Hope thought of an ingenious workaround for their predicament. Since Josie and Penelope are Merge pairs, their connection is more potent than any object they can use for a locator spell. It’s the one thing Penelope wouldn’t have been able to conceal. Josie’s blood on the map was just as good as Penelope’s blood itself.

Now if the trail of blood on the map is to be believed, the raven-haired witch is heading south on the I-85…straight for New Orleans.

The location had confused the group at first, but knowing Penelope would be looking for a way to oust the dark magic herself, it’s not a far stretch to assume that she’s headed to see an old ally, Freya Mikaelson.

Caroline had intended on dragging Penelope back by herself, but Josie put her foot down, refusing to wait on news of the girl by the phone. After knowing the truth, the siphon needed to see the raven-haired witch for herself. She needed to apologize—among other things. When Caroline relented on Josie coming, Lizzie insisted on joining as well, for absolutely no reason but to get out of Salvatore. Of course, this resulted in Hope arguing for her way in, reasoning they’d need her to navigate through New Orleans. But everyone knows it’s because the tribrid misses her family and her hometown.

A few hours into their trip, they pull up to a rundown motel a few miles outside of New Orleans. The trail of blood ended here on the map but for the life of her, Josie can’t imagine why Penelope would ever stop here for the night. Everyone at Salvatore knows that the raven-haired witch has expensive tastes. Being descended from the powerful Park line doesn’t just make her a witch prodigy, but a witch heiress as well. Penelope, to her credit, never cared much about her wealth, preferring to dominate with her presence and abilities rather than her name and riches. But this motel is _slumming it_ and even Josie gets the creeps when she steps foot outside of the car. The sinking feeling in her gut returns at the thought that she was the one to chase Penelope out here, her and her rash words.

“I know Satan lives in the underworld, but even this is a little too literal for me.” The blonde eyes the motel in disgust, shrugging in defense when Josie reaches out to whack her for her comment.

Caroline releases a weighted exhale. “Penelope’s been cut off from her family for a few years now. And considering how she doesn’t want to use magic, I’m guessing this is the best she could do.”

Josie pauses. She thought Mia’s insult about the Parks abandoning their sole heir was just some fabricated comment designed to hurt Penelope, but hearing it from her mother’s mouth almost makes it seem even more far-fetched. She knows Penelope has never been too attached to her family, but they were important to her nonetheless. Her heart aches imagining how Penelope must have felt having to give up her family. 

When the others walk up to the front counter, Josie rushes behind them, not wanting to stay out in the parking lot alone. It doesn’t take Caroline long to approach the half-drunk guy manning the desk, compelling Penelope’s room number from his muddled brain with ease.

Room 22. _How ironic._

————

Penelope didn’t have any expectations for the night when she decided to stop at a random, bug-infested motel. But standing half-naked in a room full of people was not how Penelope thought her night would go. Yet here she is, standing fresh out of the shower with her bath towel clutched in one hand, droplets of water from her wet hair making its way onto the itchy carpet at her feet.

Lizzie and Hope have hands over their eyes, twisting and squealing at the corner of the room in mocked scandal at almost seeing _all_ of Penelope. Caroline, meanwhile, wordlessly tosses Penelope her clothes from the bed, rolling her eyes at the other two’s antics. As for Josie, well, Josie’s eyes are busying themselves darting around the room, looking at anything and everything except her near naked ex.

Clearing her throat at the uncomfortable situation, Penelope excuses herself to the bathroom, hurriedly putting her clothes back on. When she’s done, the witch rests her head back against the bathroom door. She knew the chances of her going through with her plan are slim, but she really thought she’d have more time. Now that Caroline’s here—with the trio in tow—there’s no way she’d ever let Penelope follow through with her plan. With a tired sigh, she peels herself away from the door, turning the doorknob to enter the room.

The group has re-situated themselves around the miserable space: Josie and Caroline on the edge of the bed, Hope leaning on the side of the table, and Lizzie on the squeaky chair next to it. Penelope stands awkwardly in the center of the room, like a defendant on trial, four pairs of judging eyes demanding answers from her.

Left with no choice, Penelope defends herself the only way she knows how.

“I thought I told you to not follow me,” the witch tiredly addresses Caroline.

“Well, I thought I told you to stay put,” the vampire retorts easily.

Penelope shrugs at the comment.

“Neither of us are very good at instruction it seems.”

Immediately, Caroline speeds infront of Penelope’s face, staring her down the way a mother would if she caught her child misbehaving. “Let me be clear, I am _furious_ at you right now. And I’ll get to that later. But first.” Caroline’s tone softens at the worn down expression Penelope sports. “How are you feeling?”

The witch releases an audible breath. There’s no use lying to Caroline. She should count herself lucky the vampire still cares about her at all. “Right as rain…if rain turns out to be a torrential downpour.”

“You need to heal.”

Penelope gets ready to argue, but Caroline shuts her up with another motherly glare. The two communicate silently, each one eyeing the other until Penelope gives way. The only place to sit is on other side of the bed, barely an arm’s length away from Josie, the same Josie who has yet to meet her eyes. Caroline follows suit opposite of her, tugging her sleeve up to bite down on her arm. She extends the bloodied gash to Penelope.

The witch spares a glance at Josie. Her brown orbs flickering with a mix of confusion and disgust. She’s sure Caroline didn’t detail this part of the healing session to the others. Seeing it must be shocking. Penelope doesn’t blame her, she barely stomachs the process herself.

Ripping her eyes away from Josie, Penelope grabs Caroline’s arm, squinting her eyes shut as she takes large gulps of the maroon liquid. She can hear Lizzie gagging in the background and resists the temptation to hurl along with her. She has no idea how some people can find vampire blood so addicting. When she’s had enough of the blood, Penelope holds her head between her hands and begins a charm she’s come to know like the back of her hand. A bright yellow light glows from her hands and when she hears Hope’s marveled gasp, she knows the spell is working.

Penelope glances at her reflection on the mirror opposite her. The physical effects of her spell manifests first: from the fading dark bags under her eyes to the pink flush rushing back to her previously pale lips. The witch can feel her throbbing headache melt away too and by the time she’d done, Penelope feels like a new woman—if only for a little while.

“You—you just moved all of Caroline’s blood to your head…” Hope whispers, still flabbergasted by the new form of magic she has just witnessed.

Caroline nods, “Vampire blood numbs the pain receptors in her brain. So it’s able to negate some of the side effects of the dark magic.”

“And it gives me back the energy this damn thing in me drains away,” Penelope adds, wiping the remnants of Caroline’s blood from the corner of her mouth. As much as she hates their healing ritual, she can’t deny the effects it has on her body. The fleeting fix is much better than letting her body deteriorate.

“Good to know Mom functions as a walking morphine drip,” Lizzie teases, wanting to break the serious atmosphere clouding the room.

The raven-haired witch chuckles at the imagery. Soon, Hope joins in on the fun, throwing her own joke out at Penelope and Caroline's expense. It cracks everyone in the room up—well, almost everyone.

“Excuse me,” Josie mumbles—the first words she has spoken since her arrival—and she’s sprinting out the door before anyone can call after her. 

————

It’s not the best idea, she admits.

Literally running out of the room was not her best moment. But then again, her life has been a succession of not-so-great moments lately. So at least it’s fitting.

Josie didn’t plan on doing what she did, but something about hearing everyone laughing about Penelope’s condition just sets her off. The raven-haired witch looked so frail when she first saw her. Seeing physical proof of the dark magic’s effects reminded her of the lengths Penelope went through the save her and the overwhelming thanklessness with which she’s been treating the witch. It feels like a knife to the stomach. The siphon could barely bring herself to meet Penelope’s eyes. She saw the witch stealing glances at her, but her guilt weighed on her so heavily that the thought of lifting her eyes to meet Penelope’s emerald orbs just seemed like an impossible task. So she did the very thing she accused the witch of doing: she ran away.

Before long, she hears someone approaching from behind her. Josie whips her head back, ready to snap at whatever unfortunate soul is interrupting her struggling attempt to collect herself, but stops as she spots the familiar silhouette of the raven-haired witch coming towards her.

Josie watches as the witch comes to stands beside her and takes the same position as Josie, staring out at darkening horizon before them. The brunette half expected Penelope to break the ice, either say something wildly inappropriate to fire her up again or get right into asking her why scrambled out of the room so fast. But she does neither, and surprisingly, her silence makes Josie want to lower her guard. Maybe that was Penelope’s plan all along.

“You’re not gonna yell at me?” Josie asks, breaking the silence between them.

“Why would I yell at you?” The witch returns, her voice low and quiet, matching the still night surrounding them.

“I was horrible to you. After everything you’ve done for me, you just stood there and took it. Hell, even I would yell at me.”

Penelope lets out a hollow chuckle. “I’m tired of fighting.”

Josie takes a moment to look at the girl next to her. There’s something so familiar yet so foreign about the raven-haired witch. From the moment Penelope stepped foot on Salvatore grounds all those weeks ago, Josie has been projecting her distorted perception of the girl she knew onto Penelope. She hasn’t really taken the time to rediscover who this girl—no, woman—is. Andstanding here infront of a rundown motel, she realizes she doesn’t know who Penelope is anymore. But maybe that isn’t a bad thing.

After a moment of continued silence between the two of them, the siphon breathes a request she’s been too scared to share, “Please come home.”

Penelope doesn’t respond, doesn’t even move a muscle to acknowledge Josie’s words. She’s so still that the brunette thinks Penelope has spaced out. Josie’s about to repeat her words when Penelope finally speaks, her voice barely a hushed whisper. “I don’t really have a home, not anymore.”

“Salvatore’s a home for all supernaturals,” the siphon replies, even though a part of her knows Penelope means something else entirely.

The raven-haired witch faces her then, her emerald orbs gleaming in the moonlight, its pull feeling as strong as the force of gravity itself.

“I thought you wanted me to leave,” Penelope admits. Her words aren’t at all accusatory and that just makes Josie wants to give Penelope a straight answer for once.

“I didn’t want you to leave, I never did…When I woke up that morning, I—I panicked and I wasn’t ready to face what happened or what it meant and when you caught up with me, I didn’t know what to do. So I just threw it back in your face. I know I shouldn’t have said any of those thing. I was taking out my confusion on you and that’s not fair. I’m sorry…”

The brunette’s apology lingers in the air as she waits for a response. Penelope looks surprised, like she never expected Josie to be so forthcoming. It’s a breath of fresh air after all of their miscommunications. It feels like a clean slate.

There’s another beat of silence.

“Thank you for saying that. I forgive you,” Penelope replies sincerely, granting the siphon a gentle smile, reassuring Josie of her forgiveness.

The siphon mirrors the expression and for the first time, the weight on her chest starts to lessen. “Come back with me?” She asks again.

Penelope averts her eyes, shaking her head slowly like she’s fighting with the decision herself. “I can’t—not yet anyways. I have to figure out how to get rid of this dark magic in me and if anyone has the answers, it’s probably gonna be Freya.”

The answer doesn’t surprise Josie. Penelope’s never given up on anything in her life, and now that she knows that’s at stake, Josie’s even more aware of the lengths the witch will go to keep her safe. But she won’t let Penelope do it by herself.

“You have us here. Let us come with you then.”

Penelope looks at her then, _really_ looks at her, the kind of stare that peers into her soul. She can see the witch weighing out the pros and cons in her head. Josie can only hope the pros come out on top.

After minutes of excruciating silence, Penelope finally speaks, “I can’t let you come with me…” Josie feels her heat deflate at the rejection. But then, a hint of a teasing smile appears on the witch’s face, “Unless you buy me a beignet.”

A relieved laugh escapes Josie’s lips. She’ll buy Penelope Park the whole damn bakery if that’s what it takes for things between them to be okay again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some much needed answers there as to what’s going on with Penelope! Nice job to some of you who guessed dark magic, extra points to you if you read “I’ll Do It For Her” and remembered the amulet. 
> 
> And finally, our favorite couple finally had a moment when they're not at each other's throat. 
> 
> Lots of dialogue in this chapter, let me know your favorite line! Drop a comment and let me know :) I love talking to you guys!


	6. Love Is A Choice

The Mikaelson Compound has always felt like an architecture suspended in time. The house, adorned with art and finery from centuries past, dominates the city with an air of regal antiquity. But it never feels gaudy or showy. The house is the very character of the Mikaelsons themselves, a quiet but powerful presence at the very heart of New Orleans.

Penelope remembers the first time she stepped foot in the Mikaelsons’ home, almost a year ago now, the uncertainty of the Merge occupying every possible real estate in her mind. She recalls how nervous she was to meet the firstborn Mikaelson. Much like her tribrid niece, Freya’s own personal history breaks all the conventional rules of witchcraft. But of course, what makes Freya so feared isn’t just her power. It’s her knowledge. Despite not looking a day over thirty, the eldest Mikaelson has been alive since before the days of the Twelve Covens. The knowledge she’s garnered over the years makes her an incredibly formidable witch and an invaluable resource for Penelope.

Having had enough of the rundown motel, Hope had arranged for all of them to stay at the Mikaelson family home, an arrangement Freya was all too happy to accommodate. Because everyone knows, despite her fearsome reputation, Freya Mikaelson indulged her only niece to no end.

A short car ride later, they were hauling their bags into the compound and splitting off to their respective rooms for the night. Before she could escape to her own room, however, Freya pulled Penelope aside, lecturing her ear off about how the young witch should have come to her sooner. She had a feeling the entire thing was a set up and when she spotted Caroline smirking in the corner, her suspicion was confirmed. Penelope supposes she should be grateful. Her own family never showed her half the care Caroline and Freya have. But she’s sure of one thing: being lectured by the Mikaelson witch was leaps and bounds more intimidating than being reprimanded by the Saltzman-Forbes matriarch. But then again, the latter had much more of a soft spot for her.

The next morning, the entire group gathers bright and early in the central courtyard, though not all equally awake. Caroline, Hope, and Freya are the outliers—wide awake without a trace of tiredness. Lizzie’s still half-sleep, clutching the steaming cup of coffee Hope made for her. Josie seems to be doing a little better, having downed her coffee already, but Penelope still snickers under her breath at a wide yawn that escapes the siphon’s mouth. As for herself, sleep remains an ever elusive ghost—but Penelope’s used to it by now. 

They have pressing business to get to.

“The dark magic has buried itself deeper in you than we thought,” Freya somberly concludes, letting go of Penelope’s hands as the burning sensation from her probing spell begins to fade. “Our best bet is to have the twins draw it out like we did with the Hollow all those years ago.”

Hope’s face twitches at the mention of the wretched power that broke up her family. “It’s a possibility, but we were only able to get the Hollow out because I triggered my wolf side. The plan might not have worked if I wasn’t in transition.”

“I hope you’re not suggesting I turn into a wolf,” Penelope drawls, earning a scolding eye-roll from the tribrid in return.

“Hope’s right.” Freya rests her chin on her clasped hands in consideration. “The twins wouldn’t be able to siphon out the magic unless your physical body is weak enough.”

“But how can we physically weaken me without it affecting Josie? She needs to be at her full strength to perform the spell.” The raven-haired witch couldn’t give a damn about what happens to her, but protecting Josie is still her priority. She doesn’t need to tap into their Merge bond to sense how worried the siphon is.

Freya runs through the pages of the grimoire in her lap, stopping when she lands on the spell she needs. “We’ll have to interfere with the strength of the Merge bond. I can create a temporary frequency block, weaken your bond enough so Josie won’t be affected by Penelope’s physical changes. But it’ll take quite a bit of blood from both of you.”

The siphon doesn’t even blink an eye at the request. “Whatever you need, Freya.”

Penelope mirrors the statement. “So how are we going to weaken me?”

Freya and Hope share a devious look.

“Poison,” the Mikaelsons say simultaneously. 

Penelope sighs dramatically. Poison doesn’t sound at all pleasant, but she supposes it’s better than letting time weaken her slowly. It’s best to catch the dark magic in her off-guard. It’s proven itself incredibly adaptable already.

“It’s an original blend Freya and I cooked up years ago. Guaranteed to send you to the brink of death,” Hope boasts, the Mikaelson in her coming out in full force. “We’ll give you just the right amount.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Penelope spots Josie chewing on her bottom lip. She recognizes the telltale sign of the siphon’s worry. As the others continue discussing other parts of the plan, Penelope manoeuvres herself closer Josie, the back of her hand brushing up against the girl’s.

“You ok?” The witch probes gently, trying to ignore the sparks running up her hand where their skin meets.

“Yeah, I’m just…a little overwhelmed.”

“Don’t worry,” Penelope assures, “Freya won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

Josie turns her concerned eyes onto the raven-haired witch. “I’m not worried about myself. I’m worried about _you_.”

_Oh…_

Penelope isn’t quite sure how to continue the conversation after that. She’s still getting used to Josie caring about her so openly. She can’t say it isn’t a nice silver lining to all of this mess. The raven-haired witch is still pondering a response when she hears Freya calling for her attention.

“We’d need a vessel to put the dark magic into. Something strong enough to contain the magic, but not impossible to destroy.”

Penelope’s features scrunch up in deep-thought. “Maybe we don’t destroy it…Maybe it can knock out our other problem.”

Emerald orbs flicker to Caroline’s, signaling for the vampire to explain. “Recovering the amulet for the Vitulus wan’t the entirety of the deal. The Vitulus didn’t just want the amulet back. They needed it found and destroyed so a curse their ancestors locked away would never resurface. We’ve been looking for a way to destroy the amulet ever since, but Penelope’s condition worsened and we here we are.”

Freya runs through the possibilities in her mind. “We might be able to harness the dark magic if we place it in the right vessel. But dark magic this connected to Penelope wouldn’t yield to just anyone.” The elder witch turns her eyes to her young protege. “You would need to be the one to control it.”

Everyone knows dark objects aren’t the best instruments for containing dark magic—its magical signatures are far too similar. But if used correctly, it could spell mutual destruction for both the dark magic and the amulet.

Penelope nods, giving her seal of approval on the plan, and immediately, Freya assigns each person a task to prepare for the ritual. Their plan has more moving parts than a Swiss watch. It would take a lot of precision and a little luck for Penelope to get through this unscathed. 

As she’s being dragged out of the room by Freya, something about the importance of administering the right dosage of poison, green orbs look back to catch gentle, brown eyes. The brunette, having overheard Freya’s warnings, sends the witch with an encouraging smile. The tingling feeling on Penelope’s skin returns tenfold. She should have held Josie’s hand when she had the chance.

————

“Josie…Jo—are you even listening to me?”

“Huh?” The brunette snaps back to attention.

The twins have been strolling around the French Quarter for the better part of the morning. Hope and Freya left the compound before sunrise to gather the herbs necessary to brew their poisonous concoction. Caroline and Penelope also also went on a mission of their own to procure a suitable dark object to house the latter’s deadly magic. Left to their own devices, Lizzie had suggested a twin day exploring the city. It sounded good enough to Josie initially. But waking up that morning without seeing Penelope’s face left an unsettling feeling in her stomach and she hasn’t been able to get mind off it since.

“I asked you which one of these compliments my eyes.” The blond holds up two nearly identical shades of scarves to her face, expectantly waiting an answer.

The brunette stares at the pieces of fabric, trying her best but failing to identify any difference between them. “Umm…the left one?”

Lizzie rolls her eyes for the umpteenth time that hour “Jo, you’re not even trying,” Lizzie complains, putting the scarves back on the table infront of them and thanking the elderly lady watching over the stall. 

Josie doesn’t bother denying the charge, just allows herself to be pulled forward by her sister as they walk past more stalls of souvenirs. She only notices her surroundings again when the smell of coffee invades her senses. Lizzie has managed to navigate them into a nearby coffee shop, setting an ice cold macchiato infront of her. The brunette throws her twin a questioning glance.

“I thought you wanted to do more shopping.”

“Oh, I do. But clearly, you need to talk through whatever’s on your mind first. So spill.” Lizzie leans back on the chair opposite her, taking careful bites of the blueberry muffin she bought with their drinks.

The brunette sighs, not quite sure where to begin now that there’s a million thoughts running through her mind—though all of her rampant musings seem to revolve around one infuriatingly beautiful witch. Josie supposes that’s as a good place to start as any.

“It’s Penelope. Every time I look at her, all these feelings come rushing back—the good, the bad, the ugly. I want to trust her again, to let her back in, I know I should. I mean, look at all the levels of hell she’s been through for us. But there are times when I remember how empty I felt when she left and it feels like being stabbed in the chest all over again. And since she’s been back, all I’ve done is hurt her. How do we even begin to come back from all of that?”

“It’s your fault for falling in love with the devil,” the blond teases.

“ _Lizzie!_ ”

Lizzie chuckles at her twin’s obvious distress. “Love isn’t about being perfect. It’s messy and chaotic. It feels like a breathless, unending swim and a breath of fresh air after being pushed under by the waves—all at the same time. Love is a choice. All you have to do is decide whether Penelope’s worth it and fight for her.”

The brunette goes quiet, considering her sister’s words. There has never been a question about Penelope’s worth. Josie has known that the second she gave her heart to the raven-haired witch. Back then, she thought being in love meant never getting hurt. She’s been jaded since—her idealistic notions of love beaten and wrecked by heartbreak. But underneath all the resentment, Penelope’s worth in her heart never wavered. When her brain willingly followed the convenient narrative it created for itself, her heart still held on. Maybe it’s why she channeled so much energy into hating Penelope. She wanted her wayward heart to surrender. But it was never her heart that needed fixing—her heart had it right.

“When did you become so wise?”

Lizzie held her hands to her chest in mocked offense. “I’ve always been wise, Jo. I’ve just never had the chance to properly exhibit my superior wisdom about matters of the heart.”

Josie can’t help the giggle that escapes her. She still remembers how frazzled Lizzie got when she realized her crush on Hope. The brunette’s pretty sure there’s still a broken lightbulb hidden away somewhere in their room from Lizzie’s revelation.

“Now that that’s settled. Can we go back to shopping now?”

Josie playfully rolls her eyes, stealing the half-eaten muffin right out of Lizzie’s hand as she pulls her sister out of her chair, decidedly freer than she was when she first entered the little coffee shop.

————

Later that night, Penelope is trying to solve a dilemma of her own. She can’t exactly say she’s done this before. She’s certainly never had a sudden brownie craving in the middle of the night, much less the overwhelming desire to bake one for herself at such an ungodly time. But then again, Penelope has never been a woman who shies away from embracing firsts. That’s why she’s rummaging through the Mikaelson kitchen at one in the morning looking for cocoa powder.

Penelope should be exhausted. She’s spent the last eighteen-plus hours running around the city with Caroline. Freya had sent them to retrieve an old dark object Kol Mikaelson had made back in his day puppeteering the impressionable young witches of the city. The elder witch detailed the mystery object as a long blade, forged and fashioned some time in the 18th century, locked underneath one of the sprawling crypts of New Orleans. Elijah hid the sword away when the younger Mikaelson began using the sword’s unique properties to wreck havoc on the Quarter.

Freya’s tale wasn’t exactly the robust list of precise descriptions Penelope was hoping for. Thankfully, Kol imbued the sword with one telling sign of ownership. If the blade ever touched Mikaelson blood, the family crest would appear on the blade. It had taken extreme discernment on her and Caroline’s parts to not smear Hope’s blood on every antique-looking blade they could get their hands on.

By the time she returned to the compound, sword in hand, all was silent. Penelope couldn’t help the rush of disappointment that invaded her. It seemed silly, but she was hoping to see Josie. She had no idea what she’d even say, but she couldn’t explain the longing to see the siphon. It’s been there for years, the yearning to see the doe-eyed beauty after a trying day. It’s why she’s kept that polaroid of Josie for all these years. Pictures were all she had.

But it seems the universe is giving her a break for once, because as she grabs the last ingredient from the pantry, she feels a distinct shiver up her spine and Penelope whips her head back to greet the girl just in time.

“Shouldn’t you be resting?” Josie asks with a smile, her melodic voice sending Penelope’s heart fluttering.

“It’s what Caroline would want,” the witch concedes. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think I’m under house arrest.”

“Is this your version of a jailbreak?” Josie gestures to the myriad of ingredients spread out on the kitchen island.

“Guilty.” Penelope flashes the siphon a Cheshire smile. “Wanna help? I’ll even let you lick the batter off the spoon.”

Josie fails at muffling a giggle when Penelope bounces her eyebrows up and down, extending the wooden spoon her way. The siphon accepts it and Penelope smiles in victory. No one ever turns down brownie batter.

Josie naturally gravitates towards the dry ingredient as Penelope finishes up prepping the wet ingredients. The two stand side by side, shoulders brushing with every minuscule movement, the contact sending little sparks up their arms. They work together in comfortable silence, Josie quirking an eyebrow to ask Penelope what to do next and Penelope nudging her towards the next ingredient in response. Every so often, the siphon would poke her head over to Penelope’s side in an attempt to look at the recipe and the action would send Penelope reeling, whiffs of sweet vanilla invading her senses—and she’s damn sure it’s not the flavored extract she just dropped into the batter.

All too soon, Josie is pouring the finished batter into a prepared pan and Penelope’s sliding the whole thing into the oven. The siphon lingers a bit, peering through the oven door to make sure the product of her hard work is baking away happily. Penelope smiles to herself as she puts the dirty bowls into the sink. It reminds her of their younger days when Josie would babysit the cookies as they bake in the oven, back when the witch would reward her sous-chef with kisses after every well-followed instruction.

But she doesn’t have the right to do that anymore. So when Josie turns back around, Penelope presents her with the batter-smeared spatula instead. “The reward for your hard work—as promised.”

The brunette accepts the gift with a toothy smile, her tongue immediately darting out to taste the chocolaty mixture and Penelope has to redirect her attention back to the sink before her thoughts run away to more inappropriate places. Before long, Josie drops the spatula—now licked spotless—into the sink and helps Penelope finish up cleaning the countertop.

“Have you taken the poison yet?” The brunette eventually brings up, leaning on the island opposite Penelope.

The raven-haired witch shakes her head. “It’s next to my bed. Apparently, it’s pretty fast-acting. So I’m not supposed to take it until right before the ritual. Hope had the gall to put it in a bright pink vial with my name on it. Pretty sure she did that just to annoy me.”

“Pretty sure she did,” Josie confirms with a laugh, but then the laughter trails off into something more grim. “Are you…scared?”

Penelope considers the question for a moment. “I’ve only ever been scared of one thing in my life.”

“What’s that?”

“Losing someone I love.”

Josie breaks her gaze then, the movement so jarringly abrupt Penelope wanted to slap herself for saying too much. She should have known it was too soon. The few seconds that stretches between them feels like hours. As the witch goes to explain herself, Josie’s soulful eyes find hers again.

“I know what you mean. It’s my fear too,” the siphon confesses so softly that Penelope almost missed it over the frantic beating of her own heart.

“Jojo, I—”

Before the witch can respond, the oven timer goes off and the moment is broken. She wanted to explain herself, wanted to tell Josie how she never meant to leave her. But the universe had indulged her too much already for one day. So she resolves herself to a promise that she’ll talk to Josie when all of this is over.

The siphon disappears out of view and returns a few minutes later with a tub of vanilla ice cream, plates, and two forks. She pushes the sets towards Penelope, wordlessly signaling for her to plate the brownies. The raven-haired witch obliges. Naturally, they revert back dividing their tasks, Penelope cutting out the brownies as Josie scoops a helping of ice cream on top each fudgey square.

The raven-haired witch is about to dig into her hard work when Josie pulls it away from her, sprinkling a bit of cinnamon on top of Penelope’s plate. “You like it better with cinnamon,” the siphon reminds her softly.

The corner of Penelope’s mouth lifts into a smile. Her insides are doing somersaults at the thought of Josie remembering such an unimportant detail. And as they eat their midnight dessert, stealing shy glances at each other amidst the silence, Penelope thinks the universe may have a little kindness left for her after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we have it! A little moment of peace before they execute the plan to drag the dark magic out of Penelope. Is it all gonna go according to plan? 
> 
> Let me know your predictions and as always, share your favorite lines or moments with me! ;)
> 
> Oh, and stay safe, everyone!


	7. I Trust You

“The torches are off-center, Mikaelson.”

Hope turns her attention towards the direction of the smug voice, finding Penelope perched atop the staircase leading to the compound’s center courtyard. “No, they aren’t,” the tribrid counters with an eye-roll. “They’re perfectly centered.”

The raven-haired witch tuts Hope with a slight shake of her finger, making her way idly down to the youngest Mikaelson. “Each torch is supposed to be five feet apart. Yours are more like…” Penelope squints her eyes at the configuration of torches around the ritual circle. “Four point eight.”

Hope lets out an annoyed huff at Penelope’s blatant nitpicking. “If you don’t stop talking, I’ll torch your ass.”

“No offense, Hope, but fire spells are more of Josie’s thing.” The raven-haired witch smirks, completely unfazed by the tribrid’s threat.

“And I’m starting to see why she singed your hair off.”

Penelope doesn’t say a thing, just runs a hand proudly through her hair because no matter what anyone says, the witch has a special place in her heart for Josie’s feisty side. Above them, the sky is showing a particularly dark night. The new moon provided the perfect environment to carry out the purifying ritual, but the blanket of darkness covering them gave Penelope a strange chill. She knows it’s an unfounded worry. After all, witches have relied on new moon nights for centuries as the ideal cover to conduct their business. She knows she’s perfectly safe under Freya’s supervision.

Hope was tasked with preparing the ritual circle. The instructions weren’t anything particularly groundbreaking. A wide ring of salt at the center to confine all exiting magical energy followed by an outer circle of eight torches spaced equidistant to stabilize the mass influx of magic they’ll be throwing into the ritual. For the elaborate series of spell they’ll be performing, the ritual preparation was fairly rudimentary and Hope definitely has it all figured out. But Penelope being Penelope, couldn’t pass up the chance to bother the tribrid.

When she spots Hope moving the torches another few precious inches apart, Penelope sends a Cheshire grin her way. Mission accomplished.

The two have always had a dynamic akin to two seasoned sparring partners. Penelope would jab and Hope would jab right back—neither one going easy on the other, but always with a healthy dose of respect between them. That dynamic has only grown since their time spent together working out the final details of the Merge. Caroline once said they act like bickering siblings.

_“I’m not taking no for an answer, Hope. There has to be a way.”_

_“We do have a way. You’re just refusing to take it.”_

_The raven-haired witch sits cross-legged on the floor opposite Hope, countless grimoires and ancient books spread out between them. Penelope holds her face in her hands, frustrated at yet another dead end, and annoyed at Hope’s lack of cooperation on her plan. The two have been arguing for the better part of the hour. They almost have every piece of the puzzle they need: all but one._

_Penelope’s been searching for a way to do the linking spell without being physically present. She just couldn’t bear the thought of seeing Josie. She doesn’t think she’s strong enough to hold back from her if she sees the brunette again. The dark magic inside her might be temporarily suppressed, but Josie will never be completely safe from her unless the dark power is neutralized. So she can’t go back to Salvatore, not yet._

_But Hope’s been the ever-present pain in her ass, arguing that Josie would want her to be there, to hold her hand the moment the threat of the Merge is lifted. Penelope doesn’t see it that way._

_“I don’t want her to know I’ve been searching for the cure. What good can come out of me barging back into her life like that?”_

_“Last I checked, you’re not an oracle. So you won’t actually know know unless you do.”_

_Penelope dismisses Hope’s retort with a scoff, picking up yet another hopeless book. The raven-haired witch didn’t mean to walk into this conversation with the tribrid, yet here she is, baring her soul when she’s supposed to act unaffected by it all._

_“She misses you too, you know,” Hope’s voice is soft, something similar to pity underlying her words._

_The Penelope’s eyes dart to the tribrid’s at the revelation._

_“She tries to hide it, but it’s always there. To this day, she wouldn’t let anyone touch your old room.”_

_“Probably because she wants to set it on fire herself,” Penelope tries to joke, but the sadness in her voice betrayed her._

_Hope’s tone drops to a gentle warning. “Take it from me, every moment with the ones you love count—the good and the bad. You never know when it’ll be your last.”_

_The advice lingers in the air. Penelope’s no fool to Hope’s tumultuous past. If any would know about loss, it’s the tribrid. When Penelope left Salvatore all those years ago, she knew there was a high chance that she might never again lay eyes on the girl who holds her entire heart. But somewhere in that very heart, the same place where Josie’s smile is imprinted, she hopes for a chance—for a day in the future when she can hold the brunette in her arms again. She’s just not sure when that day is._

_Before she can even think of a reply, Caroline bursts into the room with their dinner. The smell of pasta sending her stomach growling ravenously. It dawns on her that she hasn’t eaten anything all day save for a banana in the morning._

_She watches as the vampire darts about the room, laying out their dinner spread and prompting her towards the table. Caroline hands Hope a warm beignet, knowing the tribrid has a nasty habit of digging into her dessert before dinner. The tribrid sends her a grateful smile in return, biting into the pillowy dough with gusto. Turning to Penelope, the vampire pours a glass of Merlot and slides it over to the pouting witch. As much as Hope loves dessert, Penelope is rather attached to her poison of choice._

_Yet the glass of red doesn’t seem to be doing the trick today and Caroline has to nudge her along. “Stop moping, Penelope, I got your favorite.” The vampire tilts her head towards their dinner._

_It’s then that the scent of Pasta al Limone hits Penelope’s nose. Caroline’s right, it lifts her mood the slightest bit—but it doesn’t mean she has to admit it._

_“I wasn’t moping.”_

_“Are you kidding? Moping is your default mode,” Hope fires back, bits of powder sugar lining her lips._

_“Seriously, Mikaelson? Look up ‘angst’ in the dictionary and your face’ll take up half the page.”_

_“Look up ‘brooding’ and you’ll see yours.”_

_Caroline rolls her eyes dramatically, pouring a full glass of her own. “I leave you two alone for an hour….”_

_Penelope and Hope continue push each other’s buttons for the rest of dinner, picking fights about everything and anything. Caroline watches like a referee at a wrestling match, ready to jump in to break things up if their arguments turn heated, but the two know what they’re doing—for the most part. During all of the harmless squabbling, Caroline manages to catch Penelope’s eyes, a flicker of concern in her questioning gaze. The raven-haired witch sends a half-smile back, a promise that she’s alright, and Caroline drops her silent inquiry, indulging herself in another bite of pasta._

Her conversation with Hope that day may have been short, but it was significant nonetheless. Penelope made the fated decision later that night to return to Salvatore with Caroline and face Josie. She doesn’t know where she’d be right now if she didn’t listen to Hope. For all their playful spats, Hope is almost like a sister she’s never had.

A succession of footsteps behind her causes Penelope to look back, the reflection of light from Kol’s sword in Caroline’s hand immediately catching her attention. The impressive blade looks right at home in the vampire’s possession. Penelope can’t wait to tease her about that later. The vampire is flanked by her two daughters and it doesn’t take long for verdant eyes to gravitate to soulful brown.

Josie reaches her a heartbeat later, Caroline and Lizzie hanging back a few feet behind to give them some privacy. The siphon grasps Penelope’s hands in hers, the move taking the witch by surprise, but Penelope doesn’t mind—she’s been itching to do the same for days.

Josie looks lost for words at first, staring down at their joined hands, but as Penelope’s finger strokes the skin of her palm, Josie regains her thoughts. “I promise we’ll get this thing out of you, Pen. No matter what.”

The corner of the witch’s mouth lifts into an assuring smile. “I trust you, Jojo.”

It’s three simple words, but they’re the exact words Josie needed to hear. The siphon squeezes Penelope’s hand one more time as both a thank you and a seal of her promise.

Penelope feels a different set of three little words bubbling in her throat, but she swallows it back. Now isn’t the time for that. They’re not there yet. But if she gets out of this alive, maybe they’ll get there again one day. 

With one final smile, Josie pulls back and Caroline slots in her place. The vampire doesn’t say much, they’ve fought by each other’s side long enough to know when words aren’t necessary. She merely lifts a hand to cradle Penelope’s face, using her thumb to knock the witch’s nose when the maternal gesture becomes a little too sentimental for them both. The raven-haired witch shakes her head slightly in return, the somber weight of the moment easing back for a moment. A mother really does know best.

When Penelope looks to Hope, the tribrid is joined by Lizzie and Freya, the latter having lit the ring of torches around the ritual circle.

“Whenever you’re ready, kid,” the eldest Mikaelson says, looking up at the darkened night through the skylight covering the courtyard.

The new moon is at its apex. It’s time.

The raven-haired witch advances into the center of the circle and Caroline joins her with the sword in hand. Lizzie and Josie get into their respective positions too, each standing at opposite points of the outer rim, muscle memory returning from their first go-round at this. Freya and Hope go to sandwich themselves between Josie. The first integral spell of the night would be to disrupt with the link between Josie and Penelope. If it doesn’t work, they would be left with no choice but to call the entire thing off.

Josie’s eyes stay locked on Penelope’s as the Mikaelsons begin their chants. It’s not unexpected, but the feeling of Josie’s magic leaving her catches Penelope off-guard nonetheless. Her veins feel oddly empty and cold. Josie can feel it too, surprise painted across her features as her link to the girl before her weakens. They’ve forgotten to consider how at home their magic has felt in each other’s veins these past few weeks. Having that feeling diminished is like missing a limb.

When Freya gives her the go-ahead, Penelope pulls out the pink vial from her pocket. She gives Josie a here-goes-nothing look before downing the vial’s contents in one gulp, shuddering as the vile concoction makes it way down her throat. Goosebumps erupt all over her skin. Hope’s poison tastes like sour, rotting mud and before she can complain to the tribrid, Penelope sinks to her knees. A heaviness settles on top of her, like a thick blanket of gravity pushing her down, gripping her internal organs into submission. She’s thankful Caroline’s next to her because her head would have certainly hit the ground if not for the vampire gently easing her descent. When she lays flat, the gravity-like sensation creeps up to her eyes, tiredness quickly overwhelming her body. Freya warned her about this part, cautioned her to not fight the poison’s effect or the dark power in her would intervene.

But Penelope fights her body’s instinct to close her eyes anyways—just for a second—because she can’t drift into nothingness without seeing Josie. She rolls her head to the side, cracking a barely there smile at the siphon, finally closing her eyes when Josie’s voice registers somewhere in the deep recesses of her brain.

_It’s going to be ok._

And with that assurance, Penelope lets herself drift into the abyss.

————

“Magia telox de teros….Magia telox de teros….Magia…”

Lizzie and Josie begin the second part of the ritual as soon as Penelope is unconscious. Time is of the essence. They walk counter-clockwise along the outer rim of the circle, making sure to stay perfectly aligned with each other, arms outstretched as they begin to pull the dark magic out of Penelope.

By their third rotation, a black cloud starts to gather above Penelope’s body, growing larger and larger with each repetition of their chant. The twins hold the dark mass in suspension, preventing its return into its host. The weight of the the dark power strains the twin’s arms. It fights back, countering their pull like a tug-o-war as it threatens to keep their feet from completing their last rotation around the flamed ring.

But Josie promised. She vowed to Penelope that it would be ok, that they were going to get the magic out. She won’t fail Penelope—not when Penelope has come through for her time and again. The brunette spares a glance at her twin. Lizzie doesn’t seem to be fairing well either. When their eyes meet, Josie wordlessly pleads for her to hold on. _One more rotation_. That’s all they need. The blond gives Josie a shaky nod.

“MAGIA TELOX DE TEROS!”

With that last chant, the dark menace howls, Penelope’s body lifting off the ground as the last of its essence leaves her body and rushes into the blade in Caroline’s hand. The impact is so strong that the vampire is pushed a few feet back from its ferocity. As the dark mass dissipates, the blade hums with dangerous energy. For now, the darkness is contained—Penelope just needs to destroy it before it wears down its confine.

All eyes fall on the raven-haired witch. Penelope remains dreadfully still and Josie has to dig her nails into her thighs to stop herself from running to her side. Freya enters the circle first, placing her hands on Penelope’s forehead.

One second. Two seconds. Three seconds.

“It worked,” she announces with a smile. “All of the dark magic is gone.”

Josie lets out a breath she’s been holding, relief flooding her body at Freya’s confirmation. They did it. They’re one step closer to freeing Penelope for good.

“All we have to do is wait for her to—”

Penelope starts convulsing violently before Freya can finish her sentence, her head pounding loud cracks against the ground with every spasm. Streams of blood pour out from her nostrils as she chokes on the blood clogging her throat, her forehead scrunched up in pain.

_“Penelope!”_

Josie lunges forward with abandon, holding the witch’s face still in her hands, but Penelope’s seizures makes the task impossible. The brunette scoops her head up, placing it in her lap to prevent it from impacting the concrete. “Penelope—Pen! Wake up! Please, Pen. I know you can hear me. Wake up!” She tries again, but to no avail.

Josie’s awkward hold does little to keep the witch still. She sees droplets of tears falling onto Penelope’s face. It takes her a few seconds to recognize that those are her own, blurring her vision until all she can see is a hazy form infront of her. But she doesn’t need to see. The feel of Penelope’s sporadic jerks is seared into her skin. The smell of Penelope’s blood is plastered in her mind. The sounds of Penelope’s chokes are burned into her senses.

“Freya, do something!” The brunette hears Hope cry out, the panic in the tribrid’s voice mirroring her own as she continues to call out Penelope’s name.

The next thing she knows, Caroline’s arms are wrapped around hers, pulling her back from her death grip on the raven-haired witch. Freya swoops in as soon as Josie’s hold loosens and with a decisive flick of her wrists, Penelope goes deadly still.

The room barely breathes after that, silence falling over them like a thick fog. But it isn’t even the unnatural quiet that unsettles Josie the most. It’s the knowledge that she has failed Penelope. The raven-haired witch gave Josie her trust, quite literally placed her life in her hands—and Josie couldn’t come through for her.

She has failed Penelope. Again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you guessed the ritual wasn’t gonna go as planned, you got it right! It can’t ever be that easy, can it? What do you think went wrong? 
> 
> Tell me your theories, I love hearing them! Drop a comment if you’re feeling extra nice :) 
> 
> I hope everyone’s stay safe and staying sane during this crazy time. See you for the next chapter soon!


	8. The Selfless And The Selfish

The rapid heartbeats should have given it away, but it takes Josie a second to process what’s happening to her body. It’s only when the trembles hit that she finally registers it: fight or flight.

She remembers the first time she heard of it, on a cool, rainy day with her head nestled on Penelope’s lap, as the raven-haired witch read some random article aloud to her. Penelope has always had a fascination with psychological books. It doesn’t come as a surprise, seeing how the witch has weaponized her knowledge when circumstances called for it, but there was a time in their past when the interest was merely an academic intrigue and Penelope would share every little thing she learned with the siphon, narrating in a low voice and she runs her fingers soothingly through brunette locks.

Penelope’s words come rushing back to her now. The body’s fight or flight system is triggered in the face of real or imaginary threats. Her thundering heartbeats are a way for her body to deliver the oxygen it needs for action, but the only action she wants to do is shake Penelope until she wakes. Her dilated pupils allow her better vision to seek out her surroundings, but in that moment, the only thing in her sight is the sickly pale witch infront of her. And the trembles, well, the trembles are a signal that her body is primed for action—to pounce or to flee.

As all of these physical demands on her body become more pressing, every chemical reaction and nerve ending in her body awaits her decision. There was a time, even a week ago actually, where Josie’s first instinct would be to run, to race as far as she can from even the remote possibility that Penelope could hurt her again. But now, as her gaze remains transfixed on Penelope’s scrunched up face, her eyebrows twitching in pain every few seconds…Josie can’t fathom the thought of leaving her first love, not when she’s partially responsible for the girl’s predicament. But if flight isn’t an option, then fight—frustratingly—isn’t an option either. She doesn’t have an enemy to vanquish, not even a clue as to what’s happening to Penelope.

But she recalls something else then, a third option: freeze. And that sounds right to her. Staying right where she is, by Penelope’s bedside with her hand clasped protectively over the witch’s, occasionally dabbing droplets of sweat away from Penelope’s furrowed brows, adjusting the blanket that falls every time the witch squirms in her semi-comatose state. Freeze. So she does—hours upon hours—until she feels Lizzie’s hand on her shoulder, gesturing to the sandwich and tea placed neatly on a tray near the vanity.

“You should eat something,” the blond instructs, shushing Josie’s protests and pushing the brunette out of the chair she’s pulled up by the bed. “Satan’s gonna kill me when she wakes up for letting you starve.”

“I feel fine,” Josie argues despite the the rumblings in her stomach at the tantalizing scent of the grilled turkey and Swiss sandwich. She knows her mother whipped that up knowing Josie would never be able to say no to it.

Lizzie smirks at the way Josie’s eyes keep darting back and forth between Penelope and the plate of food, the brunette’s conflict playing out infront of her.

“Eat, Jo. I’m right here in case the devil’s finger twitches—even an inch. I got my eye on her.” 

With another signature pout directed at her twin, Josie relents, taking careful bites of the warm sandwich to satisfy her hunger. It’s been ten, maybe twelve, hours since the ritual and the sense of guilt and failure that overwhelms her every breath hasn’t eased a bit. She knows Freya and Hope have been hard at work for the same amount of hours, scouring every grimoire in the Mikaelson’s vast library for potential answers. She’s been wrecking her own brain too, replaying every moment of the ritual like a madwoman in an attempt to work out what went wrong.

It may have been minutes or even hours, but soon, the others start filing into the room. Josie makes way for Freya as the elder witch heads to check up on Penelope. The brunette can see Caroline physically holding herself back and letting Freya work, she’s seen just how much her mother has come to care for the rebellious witch, and it doesn’t take a genius to deduce just how worried the vampire must be. So Josie goes to her mother’s side, holding her hand like an anchor as they both watch Freya perform a few spells on Penelope. 

“Her vitals are steady, but there’s something clouding her magic,” Freya says with a deep frown. Whatever is plaguing Penelope, the eldest Mikaelson certainly hasn’t come in contact with it before.

Suddenly, Hope’s entire physical stance goes on alert, calm blue eyes turning into fierce wolf yellow as they scan around the room.

“We have company.”

From the corner of the room, a figure materializes. Josie recognizes her as the Vitulus leader, the very person Penelope spoke to before their binding ritual. The head of the Vitulus isn’t very physically imposing, standing only around five feet tall, but it’s her menacing presence that makes up for her height. Josie doesn’t know what it is. Maybe it’s the smug smirk the Vitulus leader wears on her face or the way her cold eyes settle on the room, but the siphon finds herself mirroring Hope’s aggressive posture nonetheless.

“Ronan, what do you want?” Caroline steps forward commandingly, Freya right by her side.

The smirk on Ronan’s face morphs into an ugly sneer at the vampire’s question. “ _Somebody_ faulted on our deal…”

“We’re working on it,” Caroline curtly returns.

Ronan scoffs disbelievingly, gesturing to Penelope with the slight tilt of her chin. “Your little witch promised me a fortnight. And yet, at this very moment, the amulet is still in play. So until I get what I want, Sleeping Beauty here will stay as she is.”

“ _You_ did this?” Josie growls, stepping towards the Vitulus head, a fireball hovering blazing hot above her hand and Hope hot on her heels, the fight instinct in her returning as a clear enemy emerges.

“I’d put that away if I were you,” Ronan mockingly chastises, “It’d be a bad idea to flame the only person who can wake your dear Penelope from her unending slumber.”

“How did you put her under anyways?” Freya inquires, placing her hand discreetly on Josie’s arm to calm her down.

The Vitulus head rolls her eyes, as if the very thought of explaining her process bores the living daylights of out her. “The binding spell was done with Vitulus magic. We’re just as connected to the Merge pairs as the pairs are to each other. When we discovered our little amulet conundrum, Penelope just so happened to under the effects of your little ritual. We thought it’d be a perfect time to deliver you all a little message.”

“Haven’t you ever heard of Facetime?” Lizzie snarks at the shorter witch, the aggressive bite in her voice surprising even Josie.

Sensing the growing tension in the room, Caroline intervenes yet again. “We have a way to destroy the amulet, but we need Penelope awake to perform the spell.”

“Well, time for Plan B, dearies!” Ronan barks, her cool, unaffected facade cracking ever so slightly. “Because I’m not trusting you all with anymore false promises. So Penelope here isn’t waking up until that amulet is destroyed.”

Josie shakes her head at Ronan’s ultimatum. “But Penelope’s the only—”

“We both know she isn’t the only one of you two with experience when it comes to being possessed by dark magic. Does a certain sandclock by the name of Mora Miserium ring a bell?” Ronan’s eyes light up in morbid amusement at the horror reflected in Josie’s eyes. “I’m sure you can figure it out from here. Oh, and as I’m sure you’ve noticed, Penelope’s slumber isn’t exactly peaceful. So I’d hurry up if I were you.”

“No, wait!”

With a snap of her fingers, Ronan vanishes from the room, leaving only a trace of smoke in her place and her implications weighing heavily on Josie’s mind.

The silence in the room is deafening as all eyes drift to Josie. Yet, the thoughts in her head manages to ring louder. It had taken Hope journeying into her subconscious and a healthy dose of of self-love for her to defeat her dark alter-ego. She hasn’t tapped into that side of herself in years, content to lock it away, praying she’ll never need it again.

Josie hates to admit it, but Ronan has a point.

The dark magic lingering inside Josie, should it awaken, would have a similar enough magical signature for her to wield the dark object effectively in Penelope’s place. A part of her isn’t sure, she can still hear the darker version of herself sneering promises of revenge the next time they meet, but if Penelope had the strength to face her inner demons for Josie….Why can’t she do the same for Penelope?

“Honey, you don’t have to do this. We’ll find another way,” Caroline promises, knowing exactly what Josie’s contemplating.

The siphon shakes her head. “You heard her, Mom. Penelope’s in pain…I have to do it.”

“What if you can’t control it?” Hope pipes up.

Josie purses her lips, a determined look on her face. “I defeated it last time. I can control it this time.”

“And if it overpowers you?” Hope presses again despite knowing the stubborn brunette already has her decision set in stone.

“Then you and Penelope will bring me back.”

“Sweetie, let’s think this through—”

“C’mon, Jo, we can find another—“

Sparing one more look at the raven-haired witch, Josie tunes out the other protests in the room, closing her eyes in concentration as she searches out that dormant part of her magic.

When Josie’s eyes open, her irises flicker with a blackened glint. The siphon wordlessly summons Kol’s blade to her hands, the sword buzzing with renewed energy as soon as it lands in Josie’s grip.

“Let’s get this over with.”

————

It’s well into the night by the time Penelope stirs, this time from gentle raps on her door. Her voice sounds hoarse from lack of use as she yells out for the person on the other side to enter. Lucky for her, her visitor comes in with just the remedy.

“It’s camomile, your favorite,” Josie announces softly, coming to her bedside with some hot tea and cookies in hand.

Penelope accepts the gifts with a soft smile, reaching out for the tea to soothe her parched throat. She hears Josie reminding her to drink slowly and the witch has to quirk a teasing eyebrow back at Josie over the rim of her mug at the brunette’s mothering.

“Thank you for this,” the witch finally says, letting out a sigh of relief as the tea warms her insides.

Josie smiles, moving to make herself at home on the edge of Penelope’s bed, stealing a cookie from the witch’s plate as she sits. “How’s your head?”

“Fried,” Penelope admits, “But both the dark magic and Ronan’s stupid screeches are gone and my head’s clearer than it has been in months.”

Penelope reaches out then, gently covering one of Josie’s hand in hers as emerald eyes seek out brown. “And how are you?”

The first time Penelope woke up from her Vitulus-induced sleep, it was to Josie’s rattled features hovering over her. But something was amiss. The siphon’s brown orbs were pitch black and there were angry, dark veins outlining the contours of her face. Penelope had wanted to call out to Josie, to ask what was wrong, but in her weakened state had fallen back asleep before she could get the words past her lips.

The second time Penelope came to, it was Caroline who took charge of watching over her. Penelope once again made the move to ask about Josie. Fortunately, her body stayed awake long enough for the vampire to fill her in. She knew Ronan was messing around in her head, had tried her hardest to push the pesky Vitulus out of her head, but her efforts were in vain. It pained Penelope to hear what Josie had to do and the swiftness in which she had to do it. But by all accounts, the siphon reined in her dark side like a pro and for that, Penelope felt a surge of pride at Josie’s triumph.

The raven-haired witch tried to remain awake after that, though her body had other plans. Being locked in a mental battle with a meddling witch apparently drained her physical body to its very limits. Fortunately, third time’s the charm and this time, she’s hoping she’ll stay awake long enough to have a proper conversation with Josie.

“I’m ok,” the brunette assures, playing mindlessly with Penelope’s fingers as she does. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you woke up. Freya and I wanted to make sure that I still have a check on the dark magic—just taking the necessary precautions.”

Penelope looks down at their intertwined fingers, using her thumb to trace the lines on Josie’s palm. “You never have to apologize for that. I’m sorry you had to tap into that part of yourself…I know you don’t like remembering it.”

“Like you said, it’s a part of me. I might as well learn to accept it.”

The raven-haired witch nods, hesitating for a moment before lifting her other hand to Josie’s chin, tilting it up so their eyes are level, so the brunette can see the sincerity in her words. “Thank you for doing that for me.”

The siphon shakes her head at the display of gratitude as if she’s unable to accept it. “ _You_ did so much for _me_. When I saw you shaking on the ground, blood pouring out of you—something in me broke. My worst fear was being played out infront of me and in that moment, I would have set the entire world on fire if it meant saving you. And just then, I understood what you must have felt when you found out about the Merge—at fifteen no less. I understood why you did what you did, even if your methods were… _unconventional._ ”

Josie’s attempt at a joke works and the two share a teary chuckle as they speak about their past for the first time.

“I know I didn’t go about it the right way. But the last thing I wanted to do was hurt you and I know I did anyways…I was just desperate and clueless and in over my head. I should have stood by your side rather than try to change you from behind the scenes. I’m sorry, Jojo.”

Penelope’s hand on Josie’s chin drifts upwards to cup her cheek gently. The witch’s heart flutters uncontrollably when the siphon leans into her touch, savoring the seconds of peace shared between them.

“I’m sorry too, for all the hurt I’ve thrown at you since then. I made you into the villain of my story just so I could protect myself. I was being selfish in neglecting your hurt—”

“The world needs a selfless and a selfish right?”

Josie laughs though her tears, Penelope’s thumb reaching out to catch the droplets as they fall.

“So where do we go from here?”

Penelope scoots closer towards the edge of the bed, her hand on Josie’s cheek urging her to come closer until their foreheads rest on each other’s. A few seconds pass between them as their breaths synchronize. When Penelope speaks again, it’s barely a whisper, but Josie hears her loud and clear.

“You’re the most important person in my life and I can’t bear the thought of messing us up again. Can we…can we take it one day at a time?”

The siphon nods against her forehead, moving her free hand to cover Penelope’s gentle hold on her cheek. “One day at a time,” Josie mirrors.

Their eyes remain locked, their proximity ever so apparent to them, but neither move to do more. There’ll be time for that in the future now that they’re finally on the same page. For now, the intimacy of their embrace is enough—the promise of tomorrow is enough.

Out of nowhere, a long yawn slips out of Penelope, unceremoniously pulling them out of their moment.

Josie giggles at the adorable display. “That’s it, you, back to bed.” 

The siphon moves out of the way, intending to tuck Penelope in, but shoots the witch a curious look when Penelope keeps a hold on her wrist.

“Stay with me?” The witch asks, her voice a mix of vulnerable and hopeful.

The confused scrunch on Josie’s eyebrows loosen as she registers Penelope’s request and a shy smile she returns is enough confirmation for Penelope to let out a breath she was holding. The witch pushes her covers back, shuddering a bit when the brunette’s foot brushes up again her calf as she climbs in. After a moment adjusting themselves into a comfortable position, they end up laying facing each other, communicating silently into each other’s eyes.

Penelope blinks a few times, yet another attempt to fight the weight of sleep on her eyes. She just wants a few more seconds, wants to run her eyes over the lines and contours of Josie’s face one more time before she succumbs to her slumber.

Josie, of course, notices the internal battle waging in Penelope and brushes her hand lightly over the witch’s cool cheeks. “Sleep,” she commands softly. “I promise I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

Penelope manages a drowsy smile through her half-lidded eyes, Josie’s promise doing the trick. She registers the sensation of Josie moving closer, tucking her head into the nook of Penelope’s neck, and she finds herself burrowing closer to the siphon in return. A few comforting thoughts flow through her mind as she drifts to sleep: how Josie’s hair still manages to smell like vanilla, how soft the siphon’s hands are as they stroke the bare strip of skin on Penelope’s waist, and how right it feels to finally have Josie back in her arms—how right it feels to be home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we’re out of the woods! Only one more chapter left to wrap this story up. Rest assured more fluff is coming to make up for the angst I’ve put you all through in this story. 
> 
> What do you want to see in the last chapter? What was your favorite part about this chapter? Leave some thoughts below for your girl :)


	9. Forever

The early moments of the morning weren’t always Josie’s favorite time of that day. Truth is, the brunette hates being woken up. She loathes the very existence of alarm clocks and the screeches they produce. She abhors how much time it takes the shake the sleepiness from her eyes. No one would ever know the copious amounts of coffee, meditation, and extreme self-patience it takes for Josie to become the energetic, bubbly personality every sees roaming the halls of Salvatore.

But ever since she’s gotten into the habit of falling asleep besides Penelope, mornings have become her most cherished time of the day. It’s the little things that she loves most, something as silly and simple as not knowing what she’ll wake up to, whether it’s to Penelope’s serene sleeping features or Penelope’s bright emerald eyes staring into hers. She’s gotten addicted to mumbling sleepy good mornings into the air, nuzzling closer to the crook of the witch’s neck when the light becomes too bright, and peppering soft kisses on the sensitive skin until Penelope squirms under her. What Josie loves even more are the rare days when the raven-haired witch would find ever-so- _pleasurable_ ways of rousing Josie, pulling breathless moans and needy whines from the brunette as she wakes. Then there are the moments of peace that she adores, minutes of tranquility as they savor the feeling of their bare skin pressed on each other’s, mentally readying themselves for the day. Penelope’s stomach would usually growl out for attention and with one last peck, they’d finally get themselves out of bed.

It’s a simple routine. But it’s been there since they were twenty-two and now being twenty-five, Josie hasn’t grown tired of even one second of it. A lot of things have changed since their trip to New Orleans. Upon their return, Penelope and Josie decided to get their own apartment in Mystic Falls, not too far away from Lizzie and Hope’s. They all help out with classes and recruits at Salvatore now and again. But for the most part, they’ve carved out roles for themselves.

Penelope owns a bookstore in the city, or at least, that’s what most people think. The humble bookstore actually fronts for a supernatural library, a collection of the best protected grimoires and spell books in the region. Penelope fortified the underground vault herself, with a few dark objects as extra security—gifts from Freya and Kol. The raven-haired witch’s time abroad has gained her more than a few friends. Penelope’s connections with a plethora of covens made her a trusted source and they in turn, entrusted their collections to her.

Josie, after months upon months of grueling work, finally got her veterinarian degree. She opened up her own little animal clinic a few months ago and there’s not a day Josie doesn’t come home with at least a pound of fur stuck on her clothes. Penelope would roll her eyes and complain about the stray furs she found on random pieces of furniture in their house, but Josie knows Penelope doesn’t actually mind. She’s caught the witch’s lingering stares at random puppies and kittens more than a few times whenever they’d visit a local rescue.

Today is Penelope’s twenty-sixth birthday. As always, they’ve set aside the entire day to be with each other. However, the day before is usually free game for their friends and family. 

In terms of family, Penelope was perfectly content to spend time with Caroline. The vampire always insisted on dragging the younger witch to some fancy place for lunch—something Penelope secretly enjoys, she did come from that world once upon a time. Josie has long admired the tight bond of friendship that exists between her mother and her girlfriend. She knows Caroline is the closest thing Penelope has to a mother and it warms her heart that maybe one day in the future, her mother will be Penelope’s mother-in-law. Not that they needed any legal ties to bond them. Those two were inseparable as it is.

As for their friends, Hope had insisted on renting out an entire bar for Penelope’s party. The raven-haired witch insisted on something small and low-key, but with Lizzie Saltzman as head party planner, low-key was a relative word. The blonde had decided that a devil theme was the appropriate party decor for the night. However ridiculous the theme was, the smile on Penelope’s face when she walked in was worth it. Their friends had all gotten horrendously smashed. At one point, Hope led the room in doing the Macarena—a video Penelope would no doubt use as valuable blackmail material if the youngest Mikaelson ever steps out of line. 

Josie and Penelope called it a night some time past 1am, leaving their friends to polish off the rest of the ample alcohol Lizzie had ordered. It’s funny how birthdays are such a cherished day between the two of them now considering how it once symbolized such fear and dread. In fact, Josie’s twenty-second birthday came to mark something else entirely: their first so-called fight as a reunited couple.

_“Pen, what’s going on?” The brunette demands, arms crossed indignantly over her chest._

_The raven-haired witch rolls her eyes at her girlfriend’s incessant questioning, attempting and failing to side-step past the taller girl. “I promise you it’s nothing. Just drop it, Jojo.”_

_“It’s not nothing if you and my mom have been sneaking around whispering in darkened hallways all week. I thought we promised no more secrets.”_

_Josie first noticed it a few days ago, the way Penelope and her mother have been sending not-so-subtle signals to each other whenever they think Josie’s not looking and the way her girlfriend sneaks into the Headmistress’ Office late at night with a huge box in her arms. It reminds her too much of when Penelope first returned to Salvatore and the suggestion of danger underlying their actions does nothing to ease Josie’s growing sense of worry._

_“I’m not hiding anything bad!”_

_Josie reacts then, pointing an accusatory finger at her infuriating girlfriend, an ah-ha look on her face. “So you_ are _hiding something!”_

_She watches as the witch curses under her breath, taking a deep breath to figure out how to get out of the hole she’d dug._

_“Jojo, I need you to trust me…”_

_Suddenly, a loud crash from inside the old mill grabs both of their attention. Josie immediately turns towards the source of the sound behind her, not needing another reason to bust Penelope’s secret operation. The raven-haired witch catches onto Josie’s intentions and darts past her girlfriend, using her body to block Josie’s entrance._

_The siphon widens her eyes in disbelief. “Penelope Park, let me through!”_

_“I’m sorry, Jojo, I can’t do that.”_

_“I swear, if you’re cooking up another life threatening ritual or summoning members of some lost coven in there, I’ll burn this place to the ground myself.”_

_“I’m not! I promise—”_

_Another crash._

_Penelope closes her eyes in frustration._

_Josie takes advantage of the moment, pushing past her insufferable girlfriend with a squinted glare as Penelope hangs back by the doorframe, readying herself for the inevitable._

_What Josie sees leaves her absolutely gobsmacked._

_She finds herself unable to move from her spot a few feet away from the door. She’s simply too focused on taking in the sight before her. The inside of the old mill is covered in soft fairy lights half-strung up on nearly every wall. The ceiling is filled with yellow balloons, each end of the string attached with a picture of the two of them spanning back from when they first met at thirteen. The floor is littered with unlit candles and each surface dotted with vases of daisies. In the middle of the room is a single square table. It’s clear the table isn’t quite finished yet, but there’s a neatly pressed tablecloth covering its surface and another flower centerpiece in the middle. Towards the back of the room, there’s a broken vase, the result of the wind blowing a little too strongly through the only window opened._

_In spite of that, the old mill looks breathtaking. And it isn’t even finished yet._

_Josie turns back towards Penelope, shock still apparent on her face and eyes glistening with unshed tears. The raven-haired witch looks back at her with a slight smirk. Judging by the amusement painted across Penelope’s face, Josie knows her girlfriend intended for her to have this exact reaction—albeit with a fully finished setting._

_“Way to ruin your own birthday surprise, Jojo,” the witch softly teases, pushing herself off of the doorframe to envelope Josie in her arms._

_The siphon leans into her girlfriend as soon as their skin touches, moving to hide her her embarrassed face in the crook of Penelope’s neck. Amidst all the commotion of the morning, Josie has completely forgotten about her own birthday. All it took was Penelope sneaking out of bed at the crack of dawn for Josie to scramble after her all the way to the old mill._

_“I’m an idiot…” she mumbles._

_The raven-haired witch chuckles into her ear and the siphon feels guilt bubbling up inside her at the fact that she’s ruined the surprise Penelope has so painstakingly planned._

_“But you’re_ my _idiot,” Penelope counters mirthfully, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of her girlfriend’s head. “Happy birthday, Jojo.”_

_————_

Hope once told her that it’s strange for people to cook their own birthday dinner. And once upon a time, Penelope would have agreed. Her younger self, surrounded by the riches and splendor that comes with being a Park, would have balked at the idea of spending her birthday indulging in a quiet dinner at home.

But for the Penelope Park of today, spending an entire day with with Josie sounds like a gift in and of itself. Nothing makes the raven-haired witch happier than a humble day filled with little acts of domesticity with her favorite person.

Speaking of said person, the doe-eyed siphon left a few minutes earlier to go pick up some champagne. They had forgotten it on their trip to the grocery store the day before. Josie had been an absolute _tease_ all day, grazing her butt needlessly as she walked pass, breathing deliciously in her ear as the brunette presses in close from behind, or tracing tantalizing patterns on her upper thigh as she drove. Penelope damn near ran a red light when Josie’s hand drifted a little _too_ close to the edge of her self-control. All that to say, the two of them had been distracted in their haste to get home and the special bottle of bubbly was all but abandoned from their minds.

Penelope would have gone back to the store with Josie, but considering how they’re even less capable of keeping their hands to themselves today than usual, Josie had opted to go by herself. Plus, Penelope’s keeping an eye on a rack of lamb in the oven and even though it’s _her_ birthday, she is somehow making Josie’s favorite meal. She can hear Hope’s voice in the back of her head making fun of just how whipped she is. But Penelope simply can’t help it. One look at Josie’s adorable pout and the witch is putty in her hands.

Before she knows it, Josie’s home and Penelope’s heart does a little flutter when she hears the siphon’s voice. _Whipped, definitely irrevocably whipped._ Penelope watches as the brunette sets the champagne down at the center of the table and skips into the kitchen to greet her with a kiss. It’s second nature to them at the point, the way their lips meet. It’s home. 

“Hi,” Josie whispers, eyes full of mirth.

Penelope mirrors the greeting effortlessly, determined to chase the brunette’s lips for a few more pecks as they part.

The siphon surveys the various ingredients strewn about the kitchen island, just beginning to notice the mouthwatering scent circulating the room. “It smells amazing in here by the way. Anything else I can help with?”

Penelope beams at her girlfriend’s compliment. Admittedly, her cooking skills have gotten a lot better since moving in with Josie. She supposes it has something to do with the insane amount of cooking shows the brunette insist they watch.

“The main’s done, just got the sides and dessert to do.”

“Dibs on dessert,” Josie claims, quickly manoeuvring out of Penelope’s arms and towards the fridge. “We both know I’m better at the sweet stuff.”

The brunette punctuates her boast with a wink that Penelope finds all too adorable and the witty retort the witch had in her brain dissipates at the action.

“Sure, love, whatever you say.”

For the next hour, the two work in relative silence, enjoying each other’s presence in the kitchen as they go about their respective tasks. Whenever they got hungry, they’d try to pick things off of the other’s station. Josie stole a piece of grilled zucchini from Penelope’s side and Penelope retaliated by sneaking away a strawberry from Josie’s—their own version of warfare. Despite their losses along the way, dinner turned out more than picture-perfect.

They’re halfway through dessert when the doorbell rings. Josie immediately volunteers to get the door, jumping out of her seat before she can even finish her sentence. Penelope furrows her eyebrows curiously at the brunette’s action. They’re certainly not expecting anyone as far Penelope knows and Josie’s already given her a present. She’s not sure what else has up her sleeve.

A few minutes later, Josie returns with a huge box cradled in her arms. “Happy birthday, Pen.”

“Jojo, you already got me a present!” The raven-haired witch can’t help the smile that appears on her face when she sees Josie biting her lip to keep herself from smiling so hard.

“Well,” Josie begins, drawing out the word conspiratorially. “This present’s for both of us.”

The brunette extends her arms towards the raven-haired witch, encouraging her to open the box’s contents. As soon as she does, a puppy’s head darts up out of the box, its happy little face scanning the room in barely contained excitement.

“You know the vet’s been working with a new rescue center downtown and well, when I saw this little guy….I couldn’t help myself. He’s probably a mix of a West Highland White Terrier and something else. But he’s happy and healthy and ours…if you want him.”

They’ve been talking about getting a dog for awhile now, but they haven’t actually set aside time from their busy schedules to visit rescues just yet. Josie’s always talked about how it’ll be love at first sight when they find “the one” and they just have to be patient before finding the perfect pup for them. Looking into his little eyes now, Penelope knows exactly what Josie’s talking about.

“Are you kidding? Of course we’re keeping him!” Penelope declares with a shocked laugh.

Right on cue, the little pup scrambles out of the box and into Penelope’s arms, licking her face as if he’s thanking her for welcoming him into their home. Josie’s face lights up at the display, obviously proud of herself for pulling off the surprise.

“Seems like he likes licking your face just as much as I do,” the brunette teases.

Penelope tries her best to smirk through the little puppy’s eager licks. “Don’t worry, Jojo. I promise I like it more when you do it.”

The raven-haired witch is about to hand the little one over to Josie when she spots a tiny box attached to its collar. When she looks back up at Josie, the brunette is sporting a nervous smile.

Penelope feels her heart racing inside her chest. They’ve been talking about taking the next step in their relationship for a while now. Not that there’s a lot to talk about, they’ve known they were each other’s forevers since they were in their teens. But leave it to Josie to upstage Penelope’s proposal with her own first.

Josie lifts the little puppy out of Penelope’s hands so she can get a proper look at the ring inside the box. Tears spring to the witch’s eyes as soon as she sees the ring. It’s a one point three carat oval diamond surrounded by an army of smaller diamonds lining the platinum band. It’s simple yet elegant. It’s a quiet but powerful statement, exactly the kind of thing that Penelope would wear proudly on her finger for the world to see.

Josie doesn’t get down on one knee—that part’s a little too cliche for them both—but she does settle for holding Penelope’s hand close to the chest, just so Penelope can feel the erratic drumming of her heart.

“Penelope Park, will you do me the honor of being my forever? Officially?”

The nerves from before are nowhere to be found as Penelope peers into Josie’s eyes. It’s as if saying those very words filled the brunette up with more confidence and certainty than anything else she’s ever done in her life. And hearing those words makes Penelope more whole than she’s ever felt.

“There’s nothing that would make me happier than to be your wife, Jojo. You’re stuck with me this time.”

Josie chuckles happily, sliding the ring onto Penelope’s finger. And of course, it’s a perfect fit, like it’s supposed to be there since day one. The raven-haired witch barely has a chance to breathe before Josie’s rushing forward into Penelope’s arm, capturing the witch’s lips in a desperate kiss. Penelope may have been imagining it, but the kiss feels different. It feels like the start of their forever.

Soon enough, they’re forced to break apart when the little pup starts barking between them, having picked up on the excitement of the moment and doesn’t want to be left out. Josie picks the little one back up, squishing him between them as Penelope traps them in an embrace—the start of her family.

There was a time when Penelope thought this moment would never come. After all, she and Josie are water and a flame—they’re as opposite as can be. But who else would there be? They each have a little part of the other in themselves. Josie’s outwardly sweet nature is like a quiet lake, while her inward passion burns fiery red. In contrast, Penelope’s blazing exterior serves to hide her calm and collected nature. They compliment each other in ways no one else can because they understand parts of the other the world never gets to see. They’ll always butt heads, in matters great and small, but at the end of the day, they’re connected. They’re Josie and Penelope and they’re finally starting the next chapter of the rest of their lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After all that angst, these two deserve all the fluff in the world! I hope my send off for them in this story did that justice. It's been such a blast writing for Posie and creating two versions of the same story. For everyone of you who followed along for the ride: you guys are the absolute best. 
> 
> Now one last time, tell me your thoughts! *pretty please with a Posie cherry on top*
> 
> Bonus point: Tell me what you think the puppy's name should be ;)


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